Durin's Day
by NaniErin
Summary: Bilbo Baggins is a simple man of simple pleasures from District Shire - a scientist, content with his place in the world. When a handful of militant refugees come calling, set on ousting the dictator Smaug from District Erebor, Bilbo is left wondering if this is a feat they can accomplish, or if this task will burn the lot of them alive. (rating for violence in later chapters)
1. Prologue

This story is the result of the combined efforts of myself and the ever wonderful Smalls, my sister in all but blood. This story is already published, if in a form a touch rougher than this, on Archive of Our Own and on our page on Tumblr (search for Durin's Day Chronicles), where it's accompanied by pictures and links to the music. I'll be trying to space out the chapters a bit, so that you don't get drowned all at once, but it shouldn't take too long for this site to be caught up to the others. If you like our story, or have questions or comments about it, please let us know - we thrive on the responses!

(And to those of you kind and patient souls who have been waiting for me to work on my other stories... I have no excuse except that I have fallen into a torrid, passionate affair with the Hobbit Fandom and that I will return to my other stories someday, but I must see this through first. Your support, even through neglect, is truly a touching thing. Thank you, truly.)

Theme song - Lead Sails (And A Paper Anchor) by Atreyu 

* * *

The soft sound of bare feet on the stone path barely registered before the front door crashed open and slammed shut just as quick.

Hidden away in his study, Bilbo Baggins continued to hold his breath until the soft sounds of a child fighting back tears could be heard.

_Ah, Frodo. Of course, it was Frodo._Releasing a breath, Bilbo tucked a slender blade – _one he didn't recall pulling free_ – back into its hiding place. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. _Really, who else had he expected?_

He saved the file he was working on and set his computer to stand-by. If the poor lad was as upset as he sounded, Bilbo wouldn't be making any further progress this evening.

The man stood with a soft sigh, gave his wrinkled vest a bit of a tug, and headed for the entry way.

A boy sat slumped at the foot of the solid wooden door, patched knees pulled up to his chest and wet face hidden behind his hands. Bilbo frowned. The knuckles of both the lad's hands were red and raw, but the left side was a sight more scuffed than the right. He had thought that the boy favored his right hand, but it didn't matter – not right this moment, anyway.

Bilbo allowed his eyes to stray to the door for a moment and smiled to see that it was locked. He nodded. Frodo was a good lad, more often than not.

"Been fighting again." It wasn't a question, but it wasn't an accusation, either.

The boy gave a vicious start, but nodded up at Bilbo after a moment or two of silence. "Sackville-Bagginses," he muttered.

Bilbo nodded in sympathy. There'd been more than a few times when he'd have liked to bruise his hands on the faces of a particular Sackville-Baggins or two, himself. He felt a smile curve his mouth at the memory of the one time he did.

Frodo blinked and then answered with a watery smile of his own.

"Come along, then. We'd best get you patched up."

Bilbo pulled the lad to his feet and the pair of them made their way to the kitchen. A first aid kit was found with some rummaging and soon the man was tending to the boy's hands. The lad was quiet and Bilbo allowed his thoughts to wander to another time, when he was patching up the bruised and broken hands of another youth, one with fairer hair and whose blue eyes had a bit more grey in them than the ones watching him now did. He recalled the light that was ever present in the youth's smile and the joy that was sometimes a tangible thing when he laughed.

Bilbo looked over the smaller hands, now that he had finished bandaging them, and saw, in his mind's eye, another set of hands – ones that knew work, honest and dishonest alike, that knew hope and comfort and cheer. He closed his eyes in a moment of sharp grief. _That young man would've done great things, such great –_

"Aren't you going to ask if I'm sorry?"

It was Bilbo's turn to startle.

It wasn't but half a moment before he remembered where he sat and who the boy sitting with him was. This solemn boy, with his mop of dark hair and those bright, soulful eyes - eyes that used to sparkle with the possibility of mischief and glisten with false tears when said mischief was discovered.

It wasn't so much that Frodo looked different, Bilbo mused, but that the air around the lad now hung with a bit more weight. The stubbornness, at least, he recognized. The lad's face was set in a mulish expression, as if he expected to be told off at any moment and wanted to make it clear that he wouldn't be regretting any of the events that led him here.

"Are you?"

"No." His tone was vicious for one so young and there was a fierce light in his eyes.

Bilbo said nothing, but nodded and hummed a bit. He returned the bandages and ointments to where they were found and returned to sit at the kitchen table once more. The boy was fidgeting, now, and there was an uncertainty in his eyes that showed that his resolve was beginning to fade.

"What happened?"

Frodo's face crumpled with the simple question and his tears threatened to begin anew. Bilbo listened, patient and quiet, as the boy spoke of cousins, cruel words, and a fierce determination to protect the reputation of the man who had taken him in. Bilbo smiled a bit as the lad finished and a handful of sniffles were the only evidence of his distress.

"Aren't – aren't you cross with me?" The boy's eyes were wide with a mixture of marvel and apprehension.

Bilbo chuckled. "No. Do you want me to be?" The lad shook his head immediately. "I might wish you had handled things differently, but I will _never_ tell you to not defend what you hold dear." Frodo nodded, his gaze becoming intense. "You get a strong sense of a person's character by watching what they'll defend. And what they won't." Bilbo paused. "Keep in mind, though, there are only so many battles that we can fight at a time, and not all of them will be so obvious. Not all of them will be with others."

The lad wore a bit of a frown now and Bilbo was hit with a sudden, desperate need for him to understand.

"Every battle has a cost," he tried to explain. "Whether you're the one to see it, to pay for it, or not - there is _always_ a cost. You've hit a few of your fellows today, yes? They have a fresh set of bruises and your knuckles will be sore for a good while, and that's part of the cost. My relationship with their parents will be tenser, now, too." Guilt darkened blue eyes and Bilbo spoke quickly to sooth it. "That part is my own decision. Easily remedied with a social visit and apologies all around, but they wouldn't have any meaning behind their words and I wouldn't behind mine and I don't imagine yours would ring true, either. I've found that I don't have the tolerance for empty words and useless social visits, lately." He shared a wry smile with the boy. "But that's part of the cost, too. There are many ways to fight a battle – with fists and pistols, with words and silence." His voice broke on that last word, but at least his hands weren't shaking. Not yet, anyway.

"Have I…" He looked down at his hands and pressed his lips together. There was no reason not to tell him – he was old enough to understand. "Frodo, have I ever told you why I stay in on Durin's Day? Why the curtains are drawn closed and the mourning wreath is set on the door? Why you're allowed to share a pint or two with me and we… we don't take any visitors?"

Frodo shook his head again. He leaned forward in his seat, hands in his lap now, and eyes shining with curiosity.

"Right, then." Bilbo nodded and found himself licking his lips. "Well, it all started about seven years ago – you would've been just turning six, I suppose. The true start of it, the very beginning of it, would've been about eleven years before that, but we'll start with… yes, we'll start with what happened seven years ago, first."


	2. Talking to Strangers

So, that bit about waiting a while between posting chapters? I'm afraid I never have been the most patient of creatures, but with Smalls this excited, we were both too eager to post the next bit to bother waiting any longer. So, consider this our gift to you! Happy holidays everyone!

Theme song - Sleepsong by Bastille

* * *

Bilbo took a step back from the table and looked it over with a critical eye. Every bit of its surface, aside from the inch or two surrounding each of the three place mats, was covered in food. He had plates of sliced cheeses and cold cuts, of course, as well as three sorts of bread. He had a handful of condiments at the far end, as well as some summer sausage, and a great bowl of fruit salad rested just beside a great bowl of potato salad. There was a bowl of crisps and a bowl of chips – _no telling which his guests might have a preference for_ – and a jar of Mister Gamgee's famous pickles. There was a basket of biscuits in the center of it all, but he'd thrown them together yestermorning, so they weren't as recently made as he would have liked. He preferred to be a bit more decadent with the food he served when he entertained, but he didn't exactly have the time to correct that this moment.

It wasn't the worst spread he could've managed, Bilbo nodded to himself. It would do.

He moved to the window to see how much had changed and let out a pleased huff.

Across the street, not even bothering to be discrete in her gawking, was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins – _meddling, insufferable cunt_ – who was holding her vidcom up so that the poor soul at the other end could see the current subject of her ire.

A fleeting glance might imply that she was upset with Bilbo Baggins, as it was in his direction the vidcom was pointed, and on any other day this might've been true. The rivalry between himself and the covetous old biddy had been around since they were both old enough to attend nursery together. On their very first day of classes, Lobelia had demanded the wooden frying pan that Bilbo had been playing with. He had explained, politely, that he was not yet done playing with it, but that she could have it after he'd finished. The brat proceeded to try to take the toy from him, so he let her have it – right across her face. Neither of them had forgiven the other since then.

Shaking himself from the memory, Bilbo shifted so that he could better see the actual subjects of Lobelia's wrath … well, for today, at any rate. Two young men – _blonde and brunette and neither out of their teens_ – sat on the curb just a little ways down from Bilbo's home. Their backs were to him, so he couldn't see much of their faces, but they wore their hair long and their clothing was cut a bit differently. It was enough to mark them as strangers to Bag End Row, but not to Bilbo – not completely.

He had noticed that the two had taken to their perch just before luncheon, but now luncheon was almost finished and they still hadn't moved on. There was nothing wrong with where they were taking their rest, of course. A public park flanked one side of Bilbo's home, and at this time of day the shade from the trees reached all the way to the street and the breeze, if it was present, was known to be cool and sweet-smelling. Quite the pleasant place to catch one's breath, if one was so inclined.

Lobelia, though, could not tolerate such actions. She seemed to be of a mind that having outsiders on her street was as scandalous as wearing socks with sandals - which meant that it was the local watch that Lobelia was harassing at the moment, the poor souls. Still, valid complaints or no, the watchmen wouldn't be able to refuse her the courtesy of at least passing by, and who knew what sort of distress that might cause the two lads.

So Bilbo Baggins stood before the door of his home, gave his vest a bit of a tug and ran a hand through his sand colored hair. He frowned for a moment – _must visit the barber's again soon_ – and shook his head at himself. He conjured up a look of amused exasperation and marched out his front door with a sense of purpose.

He approached the two boys directly and watched their reactions as he did.

The blonde noticed him first, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. His pale eyes moved up and down the street at a leisurely pace, but widened as soon as he caught sight of Bilbo. His lips moved soon after that, but none of what he said carried further than to his companion and Bilbo was not skilled enough to pick the words off his lips.

The brunette – _in his mid-teens, perhaps a year or two younger than the blonde_ – rested between Bilbo and his friend, sprawled along the curb as if it were the most comfortable bit of grass in all of Middle-Earth. His dark eyes flew open at whatever it was the blonde said, but he nodded and didn't bother to sit up until Bilbo was almost upon them.

The younger of the boys broke out into a playful grin – _knew he was cute, the bugger, and not shy about using it to his advantage_ – while the older of them offered a curious, if reluctant, smile –_worried about what sort of trouble they were about to get into and how difficult it would be to slip out of_– as Bilbo slowed his stride. It was their eyes that gave them away, though, and only, Bilbo supposed, because he had so very many cousins, young and old alike, and was so very popular among them. He could see, for example, the slight tightness that they both wore in the corners of their eyes, as well as the way the two shifted just a touch closer together now that he was so near.

The lads had been living rough, then.

Bilbo had been hoping that it was just a bit of mischief they'd been up to the other day, when he'd caught sight of them in the markets, but it didn't look to be so. It was enough to make anyone sigh and shake their heads at the injustice of things, but that would have to wait for later.

He waited until he stood before both the young men _- a bit in the street, actually_ - before he planted his hands on his hips and gave the pair of them a look of mild reproach. He sent a brief prayer to the Valar that the lads were as quick of mind as they were of hand and opened his mouth.

"And what is the meaning of this? You've given me quite a fright, I'll have you know! I've had luncheon ready and waiting since a quarter to one and here you are, lounging in the shade without a worry in the world while I worry myself sick over the pair of you losing yourselves or, Eru forbid, finding injury on your way here."

The sound of a door opening came from behind him, followed by brisk footsteps. Bilbo rolled his eyes skyward and smirked at the young men. He had just enough time to catch a hint of understanding in their eyes that might've been an answer before Lobelia's shrill voice filled the air.

"Bilbo Baggins! You stay away from those two! They're hooligans and who knows what they're up to, lurking about the neighborhood so?" She came to a stop at the far edge of the street and narrowed her eyes at the boys as if she expected them to become violent at any moment. "I've already called for the watch – they'll be sending a patrol around and then we'll have these delinquents out of here." She sniffed delicately at these last words.

The brunette looked affronted at Lobelia's rant, but the blonde's eyes only grew harder. The older one was more likely to hold a grudge, then.

Bilbo turned so that he could see his cousin, putting the young men more to his back than might be wise, but he made sure that he showed no hesitation with the action. "You called for the watch?" He was sure to wear the particular expression that Drogo had assured him was just on the polite side of condescending. "Whatever for? Have you caught Lily Brandybuck's tom-cat in your azaleas again?"

Lobelia's eyes narrowed even further. "_Whatever for_?! I just told you 'whatever for'! These are ruffians and vagrants and criminals of the worst sort, I dare imagine! What other reason could they have for loitering about a peaceful place like this?"

Bilbo arched an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. "You mean other than to enjoy a pleasant day? Or to take in the sight of the Bag End Gardens, the same ones that plenty of tourists have made their way to our humble street for? Or," and here he cast another amused look at the youths, "perhaps they forgot the address they were given just two days ago and only remembered the street their gracious host lived on and the most distinguishing landmark that might have been mentioned with it?"

Both young men immediately offered protests, the brunette going so far as to offer a laughing "Of course we didn't forget where you lived, Master Boggins, it's only that _this one_ might have left the note you gave us in his pants pocket when he sent it off for washing –" and of course, the blonde only redoubled his protesting and made a show of foisting the blame back to the younger of the two.

Excellent, they were both clever, then.

The quarrelling between the two – _and really, they bickered so easily and so well that if they weren't related, they may as well be_ – was just loud enough that it overpowered anything else Lobelia might've offered in the way of accusation and lasted long enough that they were still in their stride when the watchmen pulled up.

The watchmen's vehicle was recently washed - the soft grey coloring gleamed and sparkled in the sunlight, and the District Shire seal was in exceptionally pristine condition. In fact, the wheels of the vehicle didn't seem to have any mud buried in the treads, either, and if Bilbo didn't know any better…

"Watchman Bolger! Watchman Cotton!" Bilbo allowed his smile to stretch until his face hurt. "Is that a new vehicle that you've been assigned?"

Adelard Cotton, the younger of the two watchmen and still prone to swelling with complements, puffed out his chest and grinned in return. "That t'is, Mister Baggins. Only ten new watch-wheels 'cross the whole of District Shire an' d'you know that three of 'em are staying right here in Hobbiton?"

"Oh, shut it, Cotton. No one likes a braggart." Rowan Bolger made a disgruntled noise, but the sparkle in his eyes matched the one in his partner's eyes.

Young Adelard made a sound of protest – _and he probably could've kept the pair of men here for hours, if he pleased, just listening to them go on about their new prize_ – but an ugly sound came from Lobelia's direction and Bilbo thought it a wonder that she could still see anything, the woman's eyes were squinted so tight. The watchman's cheerful mood faded under her shrewish glare and he gave a bit of a tug on his uniform jacket, his face becoming more stern as he turned to Bilbo's horrible neighbor.

"Ah, yes, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins. What's the trouble, then?" His tone was polite even if his words were to the point.

"The trouble?!" Lobelia sputtered. "The trouble is there, sitting on that curb, just waiting for us to look away long enough that for them to deface someone's property or break into someone's home! Why, we're lucky we haven't been assailed where we stand, each one of us!"

It was Bilbo's turn to glare, now, and he leveled its full effects on the mad cow standing across the way. "Now, see here, _Madam_," he barely kept a proper sneer from his lips and, distantly, felt his right hand twitch in want of his Assistant. "These young men are my guests. They are here at my invitation and I will not stand for listening to the slandering of their character by the likes of you, Lobelia."

Lobelia sputtered again, but this time nothing intelligible was produced.

Still in their vehicle, the two watchmen seemed to be content with merely observing the pair – _longstanding rivals that they were known to be_ – assault each other with words. The elder of them seemed rightly amused with the whole event, but the younger of them seemed a bit more nervous after Bilbo's retort and might've even flinched when Bilbo's hand gave that twitch earlier, if watchmen could be said to flinch.

Watchman Bolger gave his own throat a bit of a clearing before he spoke, "'Scuse me, please, Mister Baggins, but you say these two young men're your guests?"

Bilbo was no stranger to that look and that tone. Amused or not, Rowan wouldn't be leaving until received a better explanation. Bilbo nodded. "They are. Their parents were friends of my mother's, rest her soul, and they got to Hobbiton not half a week ago looking for work – you know how things tend to be outside of the district – and have been having a horrible time of finding it. The lads here, well, they're more than old enough to find mischief and still at that tender age when they'll happily eat a person out of house and home, so of course I offered the lot of them quarter at Bag End. Their parents begged off, but they were more than happy to send their offspring home with me. I'm more than happy for the company – plenty of chores and repairs for them to keep busy with – but I'm still trying to work out if they're repaying me for some sort of insult my mother might've slipped them, once upon a time."

The younger watchman snickered from his seat, but the elder only hummed and gave the boys an assessing look. "Where're they from?"

Bilbo rocked back on his heels and opened his mouth, but one of the young men – _the older of the pair_ – beat him to speaking.

"District Ered Luin, Master Watchman." The blonde's tone was cautious, but courteous.

Watchman Bolger nodded, satisfied. Adelard seemed to be splitting his attentions between Lobelia and the two strangers, now that the threat of Bilbo's wrath – _never mind that the Assistant was nowhere in sight_ - had retreated. Bolger continued. "And you're certain you can handle the two younglings on your own?"

"Oi!" an indignant squawk came from behind him and Bilbo chastised himself for forgetting the presence of the two young men, even briefly. As it was, it took all his self-control to not jump at the sudden interjection. "We're old enough to have as good as reached maturity –"

"Some of us have already reached maturity, thank you, kindly."

"And we're certainly not younglings!"

Bilbo said nothing but gave a partial turn and offered a raised eyebrow of his own at the pair, which seemed to cow them for the moment. Their acting was quite believable. He'd have to remember to insist they stay at least long enough for him to bake a proper treat for them before they went on their way – clever minds like theirs should be encouraged whenever possible.

Rowan hid his laughter with a bit of an indignant huff and shook his head. "Well, then." He met Bilbo's eyes briefly and chuckled again. "It seems we've not but a simple misunderstanding then."

"You mean to say that you won't be arresting them?!" Lobelia seemed to have found her words again.

Watchman Bolger turned his gaze back to the Sackville-Baggins with a skeptical look. "Have you seen them doing anything I should be arresting them for?"

Bilbo thought that if Lobelia scowled any harder that her face would probably stick.

"They – they've been loitering! And – and – and they've been, oh what's the word? They've been trying to figure out which houses to rob… casing! They've been casing all the houses up and down this street, have been all morning." She gave a huff and another indignant sniff, giving the hem of her blouse a proper tug.

The watchman turned his gaze back to the two strangers, and the blonde shook his head. "No, sir, Master Watchman. We meant to arrive in time for luncheon, but we got a bit turned around with the numbering of the houses and thought we'd take a rest until we came up with a better idea for finding Master Boggins. We'd been resting about an hour, I think, when he found us again, mayhap it's been closer to two now, though." His tone was respectful, if a touch embarrassed.

Watchman Bolger nodded again. "There's nothing wrong with the lads taking their rest on the curb, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins, and I'd appreciate it if you gathered a bit more evidence before you went about accusing tourists of being criminals." There was a hard glint to his eyes now and a reproaching tone to his voice "It's folk that make accusations like that what've convince outsiders that we're not but a bunch of fussy, intolerant homebodies."

Lobelia offered another bunch of sputtering –_this batch no more comprehensible than the last_ – and this was when Bilbo decided that perhaps the last word should be had by him.

"I am glad to find you here, though, Masters Watchmen." He spoke to the two in the vehicle, but kept his gaze locked firmly on that of his despised neighbor. "You see I find myself missing a number of spoons, two forks and a butter knife. They're made of silver, you see, a wedding gift my mother received that she was quite attached to, and I don't think I've seen any hint of them since cousin Otho and Mrs. Sackville-Baggins here invited themselves to tea." He paused and tapped a forefinger against his lip in mock speculation. "Say, Lobelia, you wouldn't happen to recall where they might've happened to, would you?"

Lobelia didn't even bother with trying to reply this time, only gathered herself together and scuttled back into her home, muttering something about the state of the District Shire watch and scandalous cousins.

The moment her front door closed, the two strangers-turned-guests burst into laughter and poor Adelard wasn't far behind them, although he had the decency to look chagrined after a stern look from Rowan. Rowan looked amused as well, though, even as he leveled an assessing look over the odd group – glancing over Bilbo first, and then the two strangers, before pulling his gaze back to Bilbo.

"I take it you'll be taking responsibility for them, then, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo nodded easily, as if the thought had not occurred to him that he wouldn't. "Of course, Master Watchman."

Rowan allowed himself a small smirk and, after a few minutes more of trading idle bits of gossip, the two watchmen left Bilbo alone with the strange pair of boys.

Once the vehicle was properly out of sight, and mindful that the whole of the neighborhood was likely watching their every moment, Bilbo turned back to his guests.

"Well," he crossed his arms across his chest again and raised an eyebrow, although he didn't bother trying to hide his grin. "Into the house with the pair of you, then."


	3. Knowing Better

And from one extreme to the other. I'm sorry for the long wait. Real life is a harsh, harsh mistress. In other news, Smalls has met Richard Armitage! She got a hug and an autograph from him, can you believe it?! Because we can't.

Theme song - Better by Guns 'N' Roses

* * *

The strange man – _Bilbo Baggins_ – led the way into the nearest of the strange buildings and Fili remained between the man and his brother as they followed. This Baggins-man had a sharp eye – _the only one in the market place to catch on _– and a clever tongue – _the dressing down he gave that Lobelia-woman was inspiring_ – and, though he had kept the local lawmen from looking at them too close, there was no telling what a man with as quick of a wit as this one would want with them.

The man invited the two of them into his home – _it was almost worth all the hassle just to catch sight of the inside of the odd little under-hill dwellings_ – noted with a sigh that the paint on the door was chipped in places _– did he talk to himself like this often? _– and asked the boys to make themselves at home.

The entryway of the place was cozy. A coat rack sat off to the right, with a shelf for keys beside it. A few sets of shoes rested against the footboard on the opposite side – _three pairs, all the same size, belonging to an adult male_ – but no artwork decorated either wall. The floor of the entry was tiled to look like cobblestones, but the hall beyond it was floored with a warm, rich looking wood.

The Baggins-man encouraged them to leave their shoes at the door, but didn't linger to ensure that they did – continuing on to the curving hallway and through an open archway to the left, instead.

Fili took the moment to share a questioning look with Kili as he slipped off his shoes. Kili only grinned and shrugged as he did the same, but he did glance back at the door that had been closed behind them. Fili did as well. The door wasn't locked and it didn't sound like there was anyone else in the house. It was promising – but of what, Fili wasn't sure just yet.

The two boys moved, quick and quiet, to catch up with their host.

The entry hall seemed to be the only passage way the underground home had, but it twisted off to the side after a bit, making it difficult to see where it might lead to. The archway Baggins had disappeared into led to a formal sitting room, which opened into a more comfortable looking den, complete with fireplace and cozy armchairs, and that flowed into a dining room. Knick-knacks decorated every flat surface in sight and most looked like the quaint sort – _not worth more than a smile_ - but here and there came the shine of something more precious and it made Fili's fingers tingle to know that such treasures were within such easy reach.

Kili gave him a sidelong look, a smile, and a quick flexing of his fingers, but Fili shook his head and clenched his right hand into a fist for a half moment. They wouldn't take anything, not yet. They'd see what the stranger wanted, and if he demanded too much – _if his kindness was false_ – then they'd let their fingers roam, but until then they'd wait.

Fili came to an abrupt stop in the entrance of the dining room, transfixed by the sight of so much food on the table. There was sandwich material and chips and crisps and all sorts of other side dishes. Kili came to stop beside him a moment later and became still with an unnaturalness that came from cautious surprise. It wasn't that they'd never seen such a bounty of food before – _he was ten and it was the Harvest Feast and everyone was there and they were all so happy _– and it wasn't like they were starving, either – _they'd eaten at least twice a day since leaving home, had to, Mum knew when they were lying_ – but it was a lot to take in. Fili's eyes finally left the food long enough to scan the rest of the room. Placemats set out – _enough for the Baggins-man and two others_ - several stacks of paper arranged in tidy piles along a side table, another archway – _were there no doors in this place?_ – that led to what sounded to be a kitchen, and the Baggins-man standing – _on the far side of the table, now_ – giving the two of them an amused, but not unkind, look.

"Well, go on. Have a seat, then." The man indicated the chairs in front of them and took a seat himself.

Kili was looking to Fili again, all bright eyes and raised eyebrows, a brief pressing of his lips together and then rocking back on his heels ever so slightly. Fili let a corner of his mouth curl upward, but let his eyes flicker to the right for a moment, shifting a touch closer to his little brother as he did. They had eaten this morning and while there was no definitive plan for dinner, it wasn't a situation they were unfamiliar with and he'd rather not presume the food was for them. If the Baggins-man offered, they'd eat – _no sense in letting good intentions go to waste _– but until then, they would say nothing.

They both took seats across from their host, and Fili was careful to make sure not to scrape the chairs across the wooden floors. Their host smiled at them and cleared his throat.

"I'm sure you overheard already, but I'm Bilbo Baggins and I'm pleased to be your host." He said this with a deep nod of his head.

"I'm Kili," his younger brother spoke first, voice bright and cheerful.

"Fili," he added. He paused. "Were you expecting company?" He kept eye contact when he spoke, but spared a brief glance for the food, to indicate the cause of his question. Being in a strange place, with one stranger, was one thing – being in a strange place with an unknown number of strangers to arrive at an unknown time was something else entirely.

The Baggins-man smiled, and it was genuine, if mischievous. "I was, but now that my guests are here, I'm hoping they'll join me in eating."

Kili's hands twitched. It was the only sign of how eager he was to dig in and wasn't a movement that would be visible from across the table. The two shared another look. It only took a blink on Fili's part before they were filling their plates with sandwich makings and crisps and chips and potato salad and some other sort of amalgamation that looked a bit like potato salad, but was sweet – _incredibly sweet, must be some sort of dessert_ – and, of course, the biscuits.

For long minutes, the only sounds to be heard were of the three of them eating. Fili tried to make sure that they didn't take too much. They didn't want to seem half-starved and they didn't want to come over as rude, either, but, most importantly, they didn't want to abuse a kindness. If the Baggins-man was kind enough to feed two pick-pockets he didn't know from mice in the field, then there was a chance he may be kind enough to feed them the last of his food. It was hard to hold back – _harder for Kili, though, who didn't have as many memories of times when their belts weren't tight _– but they kept their portions modest and tried to remember their manners. The first time the basket of crisps was emptied, though, their host only stood and made his way to a door – _a pantry door__, first door that Fili had seen in the place_ – and then returned with another bag of them, which he proceeded to empty into the basket. The bread was replaced with fresh loaves as the three of them worked their way through the feast and the supply of meats and cheeses never seemed to end.

The Baggins-man finished eating before Fili and Kili did, but didn't seem bothered that they continued to eat. He refilled his ice tea and offered to refill the drinks the boys had as well – _which they accepted, but trying to avoid speaking with their mouths full was a tricky bit of business_ – as he watched them.

Finally, they slowed down. Fili was uncomfortably full and he was sure Kili was as well. There would be stomach pains later, but he had no regrets - it had been a long while since the two of them had been well and truly stuffed. He knew, by the warmth in Kili's eyes and the open smile that he wore now, that the Baggins-man had won his little brother over rather thoroughly, but Fili was waiting for the other shoe to drop. The food was good and plentiful, and he was grateful for it – _more so for Kili's delight and the fact that there were fewer shadows on Kili's face now_ – but every mercy had a cost, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about what the price for this one would be.

"You're the man from the market the other day," Kili spoke.

This was a good tactic for the pair of them. Kili spoke, keeping his words playful and obvious, while Fili had a chance to observe – to see what wasn't being spoken and to get a better feel for the situation.

The Baggins-man nodded and sipped at his drink. "I am."

Kili glanced at Fili, then back to their host. "You saw what we were doing?"

The Baggins-man nodded again. "I did."

"Why didn't you call the law on us, then?"

The Baggins-man paused – _taken off guard, but good at hiding it_ – and took a breath before replying. "I did such things when I was your age." He looked down at his drink, then back up, splitting his attention between the two boys. "I didn't have a need for the things I took, just the thrill that came from taking them. I had thought that it might be the same for you."

Kili shifted in the chair next to Fili, and Fili bumped their elbows together in a subtle move. The Baggins-man seemed the kindly sort and while Mum didn't know how they went about obtaining a good portion of their funds and food – _told them she'd never ask as long as they never told_ – it still pained them to think of what she would say if anyone told her.

The Baggins-man was quiet, too, and there was a tightness to his eyes now, but his smile was still genuine. He shifted and spoke again. "So, what brought the pair of you to District Shire?"

_Ah, changing the topic, then. _Kili bumped Fili's foot under the table and Fili nudged his knee in response.

"Actually, your tale-telling wasn't too far off, Master Boggins." Fili hoped that the Baggins-man realized that his brother was just being playful. It'd be a terrible shame to have made such a generous friend only to lose him over a bit of teasing. Luckily, their host looked more amused than annoyed. "We came with our uncles, looking for work. The folk of District Shire don't seem to have much work for those who aren't out of their teens, though, so we've taken to wandering about so as not to be too bothersome while our uncles do what they can."

The Baggins-man nodded. "Putting younglings to work is highly frowned upon in District Shire, and our children aren't considered adults until they've reached twenty years."

Kili's face scrunched up into a scowl, but it was only partially for show. As the youngest, he'd been fighting their whole lives to be viewed as something more than a child, and to be told that, in this district, at least, the threshold for maturity was that much farther away? Fili fought back a smile.

The Baggins-man seemed to suspect the reason for Kili's protesting as well. "Is the age of maturity that much lower in other districts?"

"In most it's seventeen or eighteen, and in some it's fifteen," Kili returned, wearing a grin once more.

The Baggins-man nodded and seemed to consider this. He spent several minutes observing them with an assessing look that reminded Fili sharply of his mother's brother – _he should be in Bree at the moment, shouldn't he?_ – before he nodded again. "I don't know your situation, and I won't pretend that I do." He paused, the first bit of uncertainty showing on his face. "My home is rather large for just myself, and there are plenty of rooms that aren't used. If you don't have a safe place to sleep, then there are beds here you may use – assuming your uncles approve, of course." He paused again, this time with a calculating look. "Sleeping is free, and this meal is free, but if you'd like to share further meals with me – which I would be more than pleased, if you would – then I ask that you pitch in around the house. There are more than enough chores that I find myself too lazy to do, if you like." The smile their host wore was an odd mix of welcoming and self-deprecating with those words. "As for earning money, no one here will hire a youngling." He paused. "But I have more than a few neighbors who'd be willing to reward a young man or two who'd be willing to help with some of their more bothersome chores."

Fili and Kili shared a confused, almost suspicious, look. "But you just said no one would hire us," Kili's words were slow now, and Fili felt his body tensing.

"No one will hire you for a proper job, that's true," the Baggins-man nodded, an amused look in his eyes. "But nobody cares for doing chores, and it's a well-known fact that the doing of chores builds character in our younglings. The trading of chores done for spending money is wide-spread in District Shire, as learning to manage their own finances early also builds character in our younglings. Why, I imagine that two young men willing to work hard could make a fair bit of coin, if they were so inclined."

Kili turned to Fili in a move so quick that the older of them was surprised that the younger hadn't given himself a crick in his neck. The want in the younger man's posture was obvious. Fili couldn't blame him – the idea of a warm bed, three meals a day and the ability to make some proper money was very tempting. Fili was still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the moment, but it wasn't an opportunity they could really afford to pass up. They'd have to be careful around their host – _until they knew him better, at least_ – and they'd have to let Balin and Dwalin know where they were, but it looked to be a good deal all around.

Fili smiled and turned back to the Baggins-man. "That front door of yours did look like it could use another coat or two of paint."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"No! You're stretching your words again – you must be!"

Kili grinned. This story was well known throughout District Ered Luin, but unheard of here in District Shire and while he may still be a bit young, he was more than confident that he was the best spinner of this particular tale.

The young man pulled his hands out of the soapy water and placed both palms over his heart, ignoring the suds and water drippings that made their way down his shirt front as he did. "I swear to you, on my honor and on the divine mercy of your scones, that every word is fact." He punctuated his words with a bit of a bow and ignored the pained sigh that came from his right.

Master Boggins gaped and looked from him to Fili and back – _he was the best audience that Kili had ever met_ – and sat his cup of tea down on table at which he was seated. "But Rhosgobels are _armored_."

"Yes, they are." Kili agreed, ignoring the elbow suddenly placed in his side. He'd get back to the dishes in a moment – he was having too much fun watching Master Boggins fluster over his words.

"You're telling me that Fili - that responsible, respectful young man right there - took one of the fastest, strongest armored scouting vehicles on the market and –"

"Totaled it, completely. Yes." Another pained sigh, but Kili could hear the smile he was hiding behind it. "Starting the engine only produced the most pitiable of whines. If it'd been an animal, we'd have had to shoot it." Kili paused for dramatic effect. "And that is why Fili is not allowed to drive – under any circumstances – ever!" He gave a nod and turned back to the dishes.

Fili made a sharp movement that drew Kili's eyes up to his and scowled at him. "I will _end_ you."

Kili blinked. His brother must have been practicing his impressions, as he was channeling their mother's brother quite well this time. Quite well, but not well enough.

Kili let his eyes widen and took a half step back, pressing his lips together tight for a moment before splashing some of the rinsing water at his brother. Fili let out a squawk of a sound in protest and promptly splashed Kili back. This led to a minor war of splashing - _more of a bit of a skirmish, really_ - which ended with Fili's skillful deflection of Kili's final attack and his prompt counter attack, which left Kili with a face-full of dishwater.

Kili laughed, trying to get the worst of the wet out of his eyes before the sting of the soap set in. He could hear his brother's laughter – _a warm sound that meant safety _– but by the time he got his eyes clear, the chuckling was gone and Fili's smile was fading. There was tightness in his older brother's eyes as he looked at their host and Kili felt a heavy weight settle in his gut.

The mess – they had made such a mess! There was more water on the floor and dripping from the two brothers than there was left in the sink, thanks to their antics. Here they were supposed to be helping Master Boggins and instead they had watered his kitchen...

Kili sent a quick glance at where their host still sat, only to find him smirking.

"I don't know why the two of you are giving me such a look - it's not as if I'm the one that'll be cleaning this mess up."

Kili released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and felt his smile return. It wasn't that he expected anything overly harsh from Master Boggins – _although he wielded that damned wooden spoon with an accuracy that had to be unnatural_ – but Thorin was their mother's brother and if he'd caught sight of what they'd done, he'd have yelled them into next week and demanded the mess be cleaned yesterday. Thorin loved him and Fili, they both knew that, but he was more used to soldiers than nephews and didn't always realize that they weren't the same thing. Master Boggins wasn't even family and had no reason not to be cross with them making a mess of his usually tidy kitchen, yet here he was smiling at them as if he'd have done much the same if he'd been standing in either of their places.

Master Boggins gave the two of them a significant look and motioned to the linen closet with a nod of his head.

Kili saw his brother heading in the correct direction from the corner of his eye, but didn't feel compelled to follow him just yet. Fili paused, midway through his second step, and turned to the younger of the brothers - tugging gently on a lock of hair when Kili didn't meet his gaze right away. Kili gave his older brother a hesitant smile, weaker than he'd have normally worn, and lifted both his eyebrows a touch. Fili furrowed his own, but gifted Kili with a smile that was small and gentle. Fili looked back to Master Boggins and rolled his eyes, wearing a smirk now, and huffed his way to the linen closet on his own.

"Is everything well, then, Kili?" Kili like how simple and honest Master Boggins' own body language was. His voice was soft, but firm - as if to provide comfort and reassurance at once. His hands had tightened a bit around his mug and he was frowning some now - _his confused frown, not his thinking nor his displeased frown_ - but, again, there was no anger or frustration present. Not for the first time, he admired how quickly the man seemed to adapt to the two brothers and the odd way of communicating they had.

"Yes, well enough," he finally answered. He opened his mouth to ask a question, some why or another, but the wording of it fled almost immediately. The whys of it didn't matter. Master Boggins had taken them in - _had trusted them, knowing they were pickpockets and maybe worse_ – and treated them like family. The whys... they suddenly weren't so important. He gifted his host with a sudden, cheeky smile. "Quite well, actually, truth be told."

Master Boggins blinked rapidly before he answered with a smile of his own. "Well, then - I suggest that you march yourself to the nearest towel and dry your person before my floors are wet enough for the neighbors to think they've been mopped." He motioned again toward the hall Fili had disappeared down not moments before.

"Aye, I suppose I should." Kili let his smile soften and again he placed the palms of both hands over his heart before bowing deeply. "By your leave, then, Master Boggins."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Fili smirked from where he sat at the table, connecting his vidcom - _a small, slight thing built for travel_ - to his host's portable cpu, which currently rested on the dining room table. He turned his face into the crook of his arm and feigned a sneeze, but felt Kili shift his gaze to him from their host and had to feign another sneeze so that the poor Baggins-man didn't think he was laughing at him.

"Now, honestly, Master Boggins, you know how Fili and I stretch our words! Mother isn't even half as terrifying as we've let on! There's no need for all this fretting."

The Baggins-man made a rude noise behind Fili, where his brother and the man stood speaking. Their host was making another batch of his mouth-watering scones, but was currently stirring the batter so furiously that both brothers were worried that he was beginning to regret his decision. "I am _not_ fretting."

Fili pushed back from the table and turned to his companions just in time to see not only Kili's ill-fated decision to try to sneak a taste of the yet-uncooked batter, but also to see - _and hear_ - Bilbo's famous "Assistant" - _a horrible implement carved from oak, yet stronger than steel, holding the shape of a kitchen spoon_ - land across Kili's knuckles in retribution for the attempt. Kili yelped and clutched his hand to his chest, but was careful to keep any expression related to a scowl or a sneer away from his face. The Baggins-man was not to be back-sassed, after all, by neither action nor spoken word. Kili did manage to sneak a mildly indignant look to his older brother, but Fili had no sympathy for him. The Baggins-man had made the rules of his household quite clear when they agreed to stay as his guests and, among them, was that there was no partaking of uncooked batter, unless it was to lick the bowl or spoon clean and only if given permission.

Kili huffed, scowling down at his hand. "Well, it's easy to think otherwise." He muttered.

Bilbo paused in his mixing for a second time and arched an eyebrow at Kili, face otherwise blank. "Is it?"

Kili's eyes widened and he took a step back, his muscles tense, but only in preparation for quick retreat. Uncle Dwalin had prepared them for many a scenario in which their lives may be endangered, but none of these had covered an opponent who was so surprisingly agile or armed with a weapon as deceptively innocent as his dreaded spoon.

Fili grinned, enjoying the peril his younger brother had called upon himself, when a single trilling note startled the three of them from the mock-tension that had filled the room. He looked at the screen of the portable and felt his own eyes widen. Then he said a word that he knew his mother wouldn't approve of.

"_Fili!_"

Evidently it was a word the Baggins-man didn't approve of, either.

The eldest of Dis' sons was saved from a scolding from their host, though, by her youngest son, who understood the sort of danger that tone mixed with those words could mean. Kili crossed the room to stop at Fili's shoulder and while he couldn't see it, Fili almost felt his younger brother flinch when he saw the reason for Fili's cussing.

"Is everything okay, boys?" Bilbo's voice held a cautious, quiet note of concern, but it wasn't until the sound of the mixing bowl being set on the counter top reached him that Fili was able to tear his eyes away from the foreboding screen.

"It's mum," Fili tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry for it. "We haven't checked in with her in a..." a quick glance to Kili only received a shaking head. Damn, how long had it been since they last spoke with her? "In a little while and she's left us a few -" here Kili let out a rude snort. "A few... messages."

Bilbo frowned, finally setting his Assistant down. "And these messages, they're not so good?"

Fili opened his mouth to try to struggle out a response when the screen of the laptop changed and the speakers let out a chiming noise that, had Fili not been in a state of utter terror, he might've thought was rather relaxing. Kili let loose a strangled sound and was on the far side of the room before Fili was able to catch hold of him.

"Get back here, you coward!" He hissed.

Kili, safely standing behind the Baggins-man now, shook his head violently. "You're the oldest, you're supposed to protect me!"

Fili sent another fearful glance at the still-chiming screen before turning his gaze back to his only hope. "This is mum! There's nothing to protect you from! Besides, you're the baby - she won't be mad at you!"

"That's a load of shite and you know it!" Kili snarled back, ignoring the Baggins-man's sound of protest. "Besides, you're the heir, and I'm just the spare..." he opened his mouth as if to add more to his argument, but let his voice trail off, eyes wide and filled with an expression that lay somewhere between apprehensive and apologetic.

Twice more, the chiming sounded, ringing louder than it should have in the otherwise quiet home, before Fili clenched his jaw and nodded. Fine, he was the oldest - _the mature and responsible one, obviously_ - he would answer the dreaded call. He sent one last glare at his younger brother - _there would be retribution for that comment later, and of the very worst sort_ - before he took a bracing breath, schooled his features into a more appropriate expression, and clicked to receive the call.

"Mum! You're looking lovely, as always! We were just about to call you!"

"Oh, were you? Wonderful! I suppose I should have exercised a bit more patience, then, hmm? After all, weeks of silence can be quite refreshing and it's not as if I haven't been assured, by others, that the two of you are still alive and whole. What possible reason could a mother have for feeling concerned for her only two sons?"

Even as he winced, Fili felt a familiar warmth flood through him at the sound of his mother's voice and the sight of her face on the screen - _her skin wasn't as pale as it had been before they'd left, but there was a tightness in her eyes that made his heart clench_ - soothed an ache he hadn't even known he was carrying. She was sitting in the living room, in the good armchair, and was stirring something - _probably tea, it was almost all she drank now_. She was wearing the grey cardigan - _the one that made her eyes look more steely_ - and her red knit scarf -_ the first one Ori made for her_ - and she looked absolutely regal. He wondered if the fireplace was lit, if she was warm enough, if she was hurting again - but he knew to hold off on those questions, for now at least.

"I'm sorry for that, Mum - you know how the tech is here, you can't get a wireless connection out of the district for a king's ransom." His face hurt, he was smiling so wide, and he couldn't stop his eyes from soaking up every detail of her - _of home_ - that was on the screen. "That and time managed to slip away from us, again."

The look she gave him was mildly amused and thoroughly unimpressed. "Oh, yes, of course, darling. It must have been my other two sons who were clever enough to access District Dunland's full array of pornographic channels without letting the locals know." She paused to sip from her tea, but didn't look away from the screen. There was laughter sparkling in her eyes now, which meant that her words had been carefully chosen and that she was fully aware that they were a guest in someone's home. A quick glance at the Baggins-man showed him wearing an expression caught somewhere between proud and indignant. Kili was standing very still and communing rather urgently with the ceiling. "They certainly wouldn't have neglected their mother for so long."

"Ah, yes - well." Fili struggled for a few moments to find the appropriate words to appease his mother, before giving it up for a lost cause. "I'm sorry, mum. We both are."

The change was immediate - her posture relaxed, her eyes softened, her smile warmed and, for a moment, Fili was so homesick that the pain was almost too much to bear.

"Speaking of your younger brother, where is he? You haven't sold him to any traveling circuses just yet, have you?"

"No, not yet - I haven't found any that would take him in, not even if I paid them to." His mother's laugh was accompanied by the sound of Kili's noise of protest and soon enough his younger brother was standing at this shoulder again.

"Hey, mum." Kili, always so loud and boisterous otherwise, somehow managed to become almost timid when speaking with their mum over the vidcom. If Fili ever noticed how his little brothers eyes took on a wet shine after, and sometimes during, each call, he never mentioned it. "'M sorry, about the not calling, or writing. We didn't mean it."

"Oh, loves, it's alright," her expression softened even more and Fili could almost feel her eyes searching them for whatever it was that mothers were always searching their children for. "Just an old woman fussing over the last and greatest of her treasures."

Kili made an inarticulate sound of objection, even as Fili shook his head. "Don't say things like that, mum - you're not old."

Mum set her mug down and readjusted something in her lap. "Well, I'm not exactly as young as I used to be either, am I?" Her smile turned mischievous. "I can see the two of you are eating well, though, and getting enough sleep. Good. Which poor soul are you eating out of house and home, then?"

Fili spoke again. "That's why we were on our way to calling you, actually. We've met a very kind local, a Mister Baggins, who's been generous enough to share with us a place to sleep and a few meals a day -"

"We do chores to help out, though, and help to fix up the place for him," Kili jumped in.

Fili was so used to Kili's interruptions that it was rare for him to notice them anymore. "And he's even put in the good word with some of his neighbors so that we can make some money of our own."

Kili nodded. "We've made a nearly a hundred credits so far, between the two of us."

Fili felt his face flush and looked away from the screen. They should've earned at least that in a week, each one of them, with proper jobs. "No one will hire us," he explained. "The age of maturity is twenty, here."

Mum made a sound, somewhere between a coo and a sigh. "All's well, my gems - you're doing the best you can with what you've been given, and that's where the importance lies."

Fili glanced back up and there was understanding in his mother's eyes, along with an undercurrent of what could've been pride. Fili felt his smile return a bit.

"Well - Anyhow, he gave us the idea that it might be nice for you to meet him - said he thought it might help you worry a bit less if you knew where we were and who we were bunking with."

"He sounds like a wise man. I'd be happy to meet him."

Fili nodded and gave his mother another smile, before turning to beckon Bilbo forward. The bowl he'd been mixing still rested on the counter and, for a moment, Fili thought he saw a flash of anxiety in the man's eyes, but he set down his spoon, ran a hand through his hair and gave a tug on his vest - _that had been an oddity at first, that he wore a vest in the privacy of his own home, but now it was just another thing that made the Baggins-man who he was_ - before he made his way over.

Kili shifted behind Fili's shoulder. "I love you, mum," his words were still soft but there was a bit more smile to be heard in his voice now.

"I love you, too, my treasure." If mum's eyes were shining particularly bright, no one made mention.

Kili pressed a hand to Fili's shoulder momentarily and Fili glanced up, caught sight of Kili's slight nod, and nodded himself. "We'll, uh, we'll be nearby." Fili spoke to the screen that held his mother's image. It was a silly thought, but, for a moment, moving away from the sight and sound of his mother was enough to choke the words in his throat. He cleared his throat with a cough and gave her what was sure to be a watery smile. "Love you."

Mum answered with one of her own. "You've done well, boyo, you both have." She shook her head, but her smile remained. "I'm proud of you."

Fili nodded, not trusting his voice and moved out of the chair. The Baggins-man stood closer now than Fili expected him to be and he put a comforting hand on Fili's shoulder.

"The pan's greased and the batter's mixed, would you mind helping your brother finish with getting the scones into the oven?" His voice was gentle, but not so soft that it wouldn't be picked up by the portable-turned-vidcom.

Fili nodded again and spared a grateful smile for his host before moving into the kitchen proper. Kili stood in front of the oven, sliding what looked to be a second tray in, and balancing two more full trays on his left forearm as he did. Fili rolled his eyes, but didn't move to interfere. As soon as the trays were in the oven, Kili turned around and gave a pointed glance to the bit of wall on either side of the kitchen doorway. Fili nodded. A door would've been more preferable, easier to hide behind, but they were adaptable. Kili moved toward his older brother, scooping up the bowl and the ever-feared Assistant along the way, but scowled when Fili snatched the bowl away as soon as he was in reach. Fili arched an eyebrow and mouthed the words "you're the heir, I'm the spare" and the scowl collapsed into a pout.

That matter settled, the pair of them darted to crouch on either side of the archway that connected the dining room with the kitchen and listened.

"Baggins, I believe I've heard that name before." That was mother's voice, of course, but it was a bit warmer than she usually used for talking to people outside the family - she must be pleased that the Baggins-man was treating them so kindly. That was good, Fili nodded to himself and scooped up a bit more of the scone-batter that still lined the edges of the bowl, Mum had a sharp tongue when she wished.

"My father's family is quite prominent," the Baggins-man nodded. He was wearing what Fili had learned was his polite-welcoming face. He was still nervous about all this, then. "Rather well respected in the community. In fact, I do believe the Thain before this last one was a great uncle of mine."

"Oh? And your mother's family?" Was Mum pressing the Baggins-man for information?

"Ah, the Tooks." The Baggins-man's smile curled into something a good deal more roguish. "Quite the opposite, I'm afraid. The Tooks are well known throughout the district, and especially here in Hobbiton, as a rather disreputable bunch - prone to adventures and all sorts of other mischief."

"Are adventures looked down upon so much in District Shire, then?" She was!

"For the most part, yes." Was the Baggins-man aware of what mum was doing? He'd mostly dropped the polite face, now, and the smile he wore was much closer to the one he had when he and Kili told their stories. "Most Shirelings never set foot outside their hometowns, let alone leave the district's borders. It's a dangerous world out there and there are many of a mind that to go off exploring it is to invite danger to our doorstep."

Mum hummed in response. "And how did two such different people as your parents manage to come together?"

Kili, across the way from him, cringed and sent Fili a pained look. Fili grimaced and nodded.

The Baggins-man didn't seem to take offense, though. "Well, both of my parents had their fair share of suitors - mother was quite the beauty and father held quite a bit of political influence locally. The way my father told it, he overheard my mother laugh one fine spring day - didn't see her, just happened to pass by at the right time to hear it - and he was helpless to see any other lass ever after. My mother told it a bit differently. She insisted that she first noticed him when she caught him eavesdropping on her when she was picnicking with her cousins. She said that she knew he was a keeper, though, when she realized that he never tried to stop her from leaving on yet another of her adventures."

Fili frowned momentarily. The man kept using past tense when speaking about his parents... and he hadn't mentioned them at all before mum asked. Had they died already, then?

Soft laughter came from the laptop, mixing with the Baggins-man's chuckles. "It must've been quite the scandal, then, for two families so different to join together?"

The man's eyes were on his hands, now, which were currently resting in his lap, but he nodded. "Oh, yes. Partially my doing, though." His eyes sparkled and the smile he wore was somewhere between proud and self-depreciating. "The wedding was a small affair, but the reception was one of the biggest ever held in Hobbiton. And then I arrived, not three months later." He let out a soft bark of laughter. "The Tooks didn't pay any mind, as my parents were properly in love and had managed to get through the ceremony before I showed up, but the Baggins' were quite offended. In fact, I'm not sure they've forgiven me for it yet!"

"Oh my!" It was good to hear so much happiness in Mum's voice. It was also nice to find out a bit more about their host.

Fili went to scoop a bit more of the batter from the bowl and frowned when wasn't able to. A quick glance down confirmed he'd cleaned the bowl out. He let out a soft huff of disappointment, echoed by Kili, who was still sucking at the wooden spoon, although Fili imagined it had long since been cleaned of any taste as well.

"Is your family quite large, then? I've heard tell that Shirelings like to grow their families as large as they grow their gardens."

The Baggins-man shifted a bit, his eyes glancing away from the screen momentarily. "Ah, I'm afraid not. I was the first, last and only child my parents were blessed with. I did have my mother's assurances, though, that I was more than enough mischief to make up for it." His grin grew brighter for a moment, though his eyes looked at something in the distance. He cleared his throat. "What of you, though? The boys speak of you and their uncles often - you must come from quite the large family, yourself."

The change in topic was a bit abrupt, but mum knew when to avoid a tender subject. "Oh, well, I suppose it's all in how you count them," she managed to sound pleased and exasperated at once. "I have one brother by blood, who is off in Bree, last I was informed, and nine others by choice - two of which should be in Hobbiton."

The Baggins-man nodded. "Balin and Dwalin? The lads mentioned they'd found jobs in the city proper - Balin as some sort of legal assistant and Dwalin as a... body-guard, I think?" The man frowned and looked off the side, forcing both boys to duck out of sight.

"Well, I'm glad they're keeping someone informed of the family's goings-on," Mum's reply was tart.

The Baggins-man laughed, a quiet, huffing sound. "I'm sorry that they've worried you. I should've thought to have them call you sooner."

"Oh, it's no fault of yours, Mister Baggins. You've been more than generous already," there was a pause in her voice, one that almost sounded hesitant. "In fact, I'm not sure I can thank you enough for how caring you've been to my boys. Really and truly."

Fili, using all the caution and stealth that Nori had ever drilled into him, peered back around the corner. The Baggins-man was wearing a bit of a blush now, but his smile was warm and gentle. "It's been no trouble, I promise. They're good boys, both of them - hard working and obedient, when they've a mind to be."

Mum's laughter rang out again – startled out of her, by the sound of it. "'When they've a mind to be' - isn't that the truth? Tell me, how did my two rapscallions manage charm their way into your home?"

"Well, they did me quite the favor, actually," and the glint that the Baggins-man wore in his eyes was more sly than Fili had ever seen, even in Kili on his most impish days. Their host proceeded to share the tale of their meeting - _he had suspected a long-held rivalry, but had no idea that the hatred shared between their host and the Sackville-woman ran so very deep_ - which brought mum to a fit of laughter and giggles. "And so," he finished, "as a reward for providing me with such a fine opportunity to publicly embarrass the cow, I fed them a proper lunch and told them that I had beds aplenty for sleeping in and more than enough food to share with anyone who could make themselves useful."

"Well, I'm glad that they've been making themselves useful, then." The sounds of mirth lingered in mum's voice.

"Oh yes, I should think so." The Baggins-man nodded and there was silence between the two of them that stretched on for a moment or two, but it didn't seem strained. "I suppose I should check on the scones - if any of the batter managed to make it into the oven that is."

"Don't hold your breath," mum answered. "I used to have to make a double batch of dough if I wanted half a batch to make it out of the oven."

The Baggins-man answered with a sharp, but still playful smile. "Oh, not in this house - the boys know well enough to keep their fingers to themselves here."

Mother laughed again. "Well then, you'll have to share your secrets with me, Mister Baggins, for you've managed to do what eleven others could not." Another pause. "Well met, Mister Baggins, it's been a pleasure speaking with you."

"And the same to you. I'll send the boys back in, if you don't mind. I'd like to at least let the scones cool a bit before they're inhaled and I don't imagine it'd be too much of a hardship for them to visit with you a while longer. Oh, and please, call me Bilbo, Miss... I'm sorry, I'm afraid I haven't caught your name."

"Dis. Just Dis." Mum's voice was softer than it had been before. "And again, thank you."

"No trouble, I promise," the Baggins-man murmured and then he was rising from his chair and moving toward the kitchen.

In a desperate burst of speed and dexterity, the two boys managed to put themselves at the sink before their host made it to the archway, but, by the look on his face, he was well aware that they'd been listening in.

"Go on," the Baggins-man grinned at them. "I think it'd ease your mother's heart if you spoke with her more."

Kili was gone in a flash, but Fili hesitated a moment and met the man's gaze. This man… Did he understand how much this meant to them? How grateful the three of them were for all the little kindnesses he kept offering and especially of how he kept acting as if each one were no big thing? The Baggins-man held Fili's gaze, though, and, after a moment or two, a lopsided smile grew.

Fili nodded. Maybe the Baggins-man did understand, then - a little at least.

Dis' eldest son moved into the dining room, then, eager to join his mother and brother in conversation again.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"You said it was where?"

Master Boggins still had his eyes fixed to a book of his own and it was a moment before he looked up. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"The book? On coding? For computers? That you said Fili and I could look at?"

Master Boggins blinked, slight confusion clouding his eyes for a moment before they cleared. "Oh! Yes, of course. If it's not on the bookshelf next to the globe, then it should be on top of my desk - I might have been using it to tinker with some of the programs on the desk top unit."

"Ah, right, then." Kili nodded, offered him a grin for the information, and made his way back to the study.

Fili was still going through one of the bookshelves - _one the younger of the pair had gone through twice already_ - but glanced over when Kili entered the room. He paused in his search and raised both eyebrows. Kili nodded to the appropriate bookshelf and then to the desk. Fili nodded and moved to the bookcase in question. Kili shrugged and made his way to the desk.

He cringed when he saw the stacks and stacks of paper that populated the surface of the desk. If there was a book here, there'd be plenty of places for it to hide. He allowed himself a bit of a huff and got to work, carefully sorting through the piles so that he didn't disturb their order, while being as thorough as he could. It wasn't but maybe five minutes later that he caught sight of something he never would've expected to find on quiet Master Boggins' desk.

"Psst."

Fili looked over right away and, with a jerk of Kili's head, made his way to the desk just as fast.

Carefully, Kili moved a handful of papers onto the desk's chair, and tapped the ones that lay beneath. Fili answered with a sudden stillness.

Resting beneath Kili's fingertips were a handful of blueprints and no small number of notes focusing on how to access and best use energy sources. One particular energy source was mentioned more often than any the others: Mahal.

Kili looked up and met Fili's gaze, wondering if his brother's eyes were as big as his own.

Since they were wee younglings, the two boys had been told stories of their True Home. District Erebor had once been a proud, thriving district. It was rich in knowledge and in culture and people would come from as far away as District Lindon just to lay eyes on its library. Information of almost any sort could be found there, but the district's greatest treasure lay deep within the heart of the mountain.

A clean, seemingly-unending source of energy lay waiting beneath Erebor's lone mountain, and some claims estimated it would've been enough to power every district in Middle-Earth. Those who found the treasure called it by the name of an ancient god from times long passed: Mahal. Nearly a third of the district's population, as well as numerous others across Middle-Earth, spent uncounted hours laboring toward a way to harness and wield the energy source and many of Erebor's neighbors had invested time and money in the effort to make tapping into it a viability.

No bird may fly, though, without jealous eyes watching from below.

The newfound wealth and power had attracted the attention of those with more selfish intentions, and while District Erebor was confident in its defensive strength, it was not ready for the machinations of Smaug and his private army. Smaug had just enough allies in just the right places that, in a single night, his legion of sell-swords had brought the mighty district to its knees. With a third of its people slaughtered and another third cowering in their homes, the remains of Erebor's population scattered to the winds.

No proper burial was allowed for those citizens who had lost their lives that night - not that anyone outside of the district had heard tell of. No aide came to those trapped behind walls that used to defend them - not from any people, not from any district. The little mercies gifted to the refugees from districts that had claimed to be allies were not enough to keep the weakest of them from perishing in the harsh winter that followed their exile.

Mahal was a word, a name, which the two boys knew quite well. It was lesson and a warning folded into one story. Your enemy will not allow you time to prepare for his strike, it taught. Your allies will not heed your call when your hour is most desperate, it promised.

The locals they'd encountered on their travels each seemed to have a different spin on the story, but all boiled down to the same thing: The people of District Erebor had reached too high, and in doing so they brought their fall upon themselves.

It made Kili burn with a rage he didn't understand to hear strangers speak of their home – _of their tragedy_ – so casually and callously, and he knew that Fili felt the same because the people that spoke so were the same ones the two took everything from when they searched for proper marks in the streets.

But what did Master Boggins have to do with any of that?

He frowned and chewed at his lower lip, glancing from the papers to his older brother and back.

Kili was moving away from the desk before Fili could motion him away, and crossed the room, instead, to keep lookout by the door - Master Boggins could step lightly when he wanted to, inconveniently so, at times.

He disguised his efforts by pretending to sort through a small collection of notebooks and loose papers that was on what could've been a side table. He felt horrible for invading Master Boggins' privacy, of course, but anything related to Mahal was dangerous, a poison to be evaluated and tolerated only if it was for the better good. The fact that their host had some sort of tie to the horrid thing was...

Kili shook his head. He wouldn't worry himself with what it might mean, just like he wouldn't allow himself to think that kind Master Boggins meant them any harm by knowing about it. Master Boggins was a good man, the only one Kili knew of that existed outside his family - and Kili would continue to believe this until Fili told him otherwise. It made his chest ache to do anything else.

Soft footsteps approached from behind him. A glance back showed that their host's desk had been returned to its natural state and that Fili held the book they'd been seeking in the first place. His older brother's eyes were tight and his brows raised a touch, but the corner of his mouth curled upward into a bit of a smile. He stepped out of the room and Kili followed.

Fili went back to the den, but only lingered long enough to let Master Boggins know that they were going outside to read. The man seemed pleased with this and cautioned them to avoid too much time sitting out in the sun - _he was always fussing, it wasn't as if they hadn't endured worse than sunburns before_ - to which Fili promised that they'd take care to sit in the shade.

Fili turned back to face him and, at first, Kili didn't understand the touch of sadness that flickered across his brother's eyes, but then he felt his cheeks begin to ache and realized he was smiling again. Mum didn't like that particular smile - _it made her look so pained and defeated_ - even though she always told him he was so brave when he wore it. Fili didn't like it, either.

Kili forced his face to relax and Fili gifted him with another smile, tugging on a stray lock of the younger brother's hair as he passed. The older brother led them through the back door and over the low wooden fence that separated Master Boggins' back yard from the community gardens. The two of them had discovered a hidden nook, far from the prying eyes of any tourists who might wander by and even farther from the harsh gaze of any locals in the area, as they rarely seemed to take the time to enjoy the gardens they lived so close to.

The boys tucked themselves away and sat across from each other, knees touching. Kili didn't bother to hide his shifting and fidgeting, ready to burst with wanting to hear of what his brother had found.

"Old research. Some new ideas, but nothing dangerous. Nothing bad."

They lapsed into silence again and Fili huffed before pulling Kili over, not stopping until the younger brother was sitting with his back to the older. Fili's hands were in Kili's hair in less than a moment, braiding the wild mess of curls into order before undoing his work and starting again. It was a nervous habit, but the motions of it soothed the both of them and Kili found it easier to keep his worried-grin from returning.

"Have to tell Thorin." Fili spoke again, barely a murmur.

Kili tensed and didn't stop himself from making a low, worried sound in his throat.

He felt a bit of motion behind him that meant Fili was nodding. "We'll wait. It's his turn next, anyway."

Kili huffed, but felt the tension drain from him all the same. Thorin was fierce, in many senses of the word, but he had a tendency to gather as much information as he could before acting - with things related to Mahal and their True Home, at least. If they waited until he took over their care, it would be easier – _and safer_ – to tell him about what they had found. It would also give them the opportunity to stress to their mother's brother how generous Master Boggins had been and how harmless he surely was, even if he did know of the thrice-damned ball of energy.

It was the best they could do, anyway.

Kili shifted, trying to settle into a more comfortable position. Fili rewarded his fidgeting with a not-so-gentle tug at his hair and he groused softly. He felt behind him, blindly, and managed to grab the book they'd loaned from Master Boggins from Fili's lap, and while his brother's fingers went back to their soothing motions, he read aloud, softly, about the language of computers.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"And do you have everything packed?"

"Yes, Master Boggins." It was the tone, more than the title, that startled the Baggins-man into looking up at the pair of them and, though he huffed, it was a gentle smile that he fought to hide. "Same as the last dozen times you've asked us." Kili's smile was wide as he spoke - _too wide for comfort_ – and his voice was showing strain.

Fili twitched to run his hands through his little brother's hair, but settled for running them through his own, instead. They were leaving soon - as soon as Balin and Dwalin arrived in fact. They had new, sturdy rucksacks, as well as a whole collection of new clothing, thanks to the kindness of their host - _good quality, he shouldn't have spent so much_ - and the Baggins-man was boxing a second batch of his mouthwatering scones even as the three of them conversed. The man was distressed – _it made his chest ache, made Kili hurt as well_ - but there was nothing for it. They had to go.

"Well, I know how absent-minded the two of you can get when you've the will to be." The Baggins-man finished tying a simple knot in the string that bound the two boxes together and rested his hand atop the package for a moment. "Now, you must promise me that you'll let me know when you're back in the district. Even if you're not able to stay for any sort of visit, I can at least bring you a nice picnic and maybe, if you give a fellow enough warning, another box or two of scones."

This had Kili's smile relaxing into its proper shape. "Oh, you'd best make it at least two - they seem to disappear nearly as fast as you plate them and I'm not entirely certain the boxes will be good enough protection against them evaporating into the ether."

"Into the ether?" The Baggins-man gave Kili a sharp, incredulous look, before looking to Fili as if to see if he'd heard correctly. "Into the ether?!" He gave a snort and chuckled to himself. "Yes, my scones have been 'evaporating into the ether' quite frequently of late, haven't they? Those and the rest of my pantry." He shot a sly grin at Kili.

Kili puffed up, as if he'd received some sort of complement. "Well, the pantry's a different matter entirely. Obviously, some of the food in there was in danger of spoiling. It was our duty as gracious guests to help you finish it off before it turned."

The Baggins-man nodded before casting a shrewd look at Fili's younger brother. "The whole lot of it?"

Kili shrugged. "Well, couldn't risk someone putting down the wrong expiration date on any of them, could we?"

The Baggins-man let out a bark of laughter. "Is that so? I suppose I have much to thank you for, then." He moved to begin putting the dishes away - _those that had dried while the pastries were baking_ - but Fili beat him to it. Fili gave his host - _still his host, for another few moments, at least_ - a cheeky grin and began to return the cutlery and crockery to their places. The Baggins-man just nodded and held up his hands in defeat.

Fili made short work of the chore, tossing bits and pieces to Kili when the younger of the brothers was closer to the appropriate cabinet. The Baggins-man fussed and scolded, but the brothers were sure not to let any piece drop and there was no heat to the man's words. Fili stopped, though, when he came to the final piece. The tool was nothing more than a wooden spoon - _oak, hand carved, well worn _- but the very sight of it in the hands of the Baggins-man was enough to make poor Kili sweat... and perhaps Fili, as well. After they left, though... Fili could admit to himself that he, at least, might miss the wretched thing a bit.

Instead of voicing this, though, he gave a sly glance at the Baggins-man and then caught his brother's eye. "At least your hands will be spared another scolding from the Assistant."

Kili's eyes widened and he nodded solemnly before the Baggins-man laughed again. "Oh, I wouldn't hold your breath. Your mother's been trying to pull that scone recipe out of me for the past month," - Kili's eyes widened even more and Fili swore that his heart stopped for a moment - "and while I haven't given it to her yet, I have promised her that if I do, I'll send her a fine, Shire-crafted mixing spoon to stir them with."

Kili made a choked, scandalized noise and his face was caught somewhere between want and betrayal as he looked from Fili to the Baggins-man and back, struggling to find the falseness in the Baggins-man's words.

A noise came from the front door before Kili found any reassurances, though - three booming sounds, as if someone were trying to knock the door down with fists alone - _Dwalin's knock, better not have chipped the paint_.

The Baggins-man startled at the sound and the merriment drained out of the room. "Well, I suppose I should see who that is, then." The tightness was back in their host's eyes and shoulders. Fili felt the ache in his chest return, as well.

As soon as their host had slipped out of sight, Fili gave a sharp motion of his head in one direction. He didn't wait to see Kili moving before he took the other. The pounding at the door had sounded like Dwalin's, but that was no guarantee that it was, and with as many different pathways through the house as there were - _a brilliant defense strategy, Thorin would approve _- it was a fairly simple matter to shadow the man up to the entryway.

Fili watched as the man looked through the peep-hole - _had to stand on his toes to do it, it was a funny thing to watch_ - then frowned and smoothed out his vest, before reaching for the door - _which was unlocked, again, the fool_. The Baggins-man startled once the door was opened, but then Dwalin seemed to have that effect on locals.

The giant of a man filled up the doorway, shoulders nearly as broad as the frame and just tall enough that he wouldn't have to duck to keep his head from hitting. He was bald - _by choice, of course, rather vain about shaving it smooth_ - and he was wearing his traveling jacket - _black, leather, thick, wool lining_ - along with some denims and a set of working boots. If Dwalin was filling up the doorway, then Balin couldn't be too far behind. Fili'd have to remember to scold Dwalin later for deliberately scaring the Baggins-man, and Balin for letting him.

"I - I'm sorry, can I help you, sir?" The Baggins-man kept a firm hand on the door - _should've worked with him more on security, on how to read others and take down the unwelcome_ - but his words were as polite as they'd ever been to strangers, despite the stutter.

Dwalin raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "'M here for the lads."

Whatever nervousness the Baggins-man had seemed to flutter away with these words, leaving a bit more steel in his expression. "I'm sorry, but who?"

Dwalin smirked - _and how rare was it the big lout of a man to give out praise like that?_ - and nodded his head. "Fili and Kili," he kept his voice low. "Sons of Dis."

The Baggins man nodded and stepped back, opening the door wider. "Oh, of course. You would be Mister Dwalin, then? You're certainly large enough to match the description. Please, come in and I'll fetch them."

Dwalin shook his head. "No time." His eyes moved around the hall and Fili stilled rather than pulling back. The giant's eyes lingered on a door frame across the hall from where Fili hid and Fili found himself rolling his eyes at the idea that Kili was giving himself away so readily. "Need to get moving." Dwalin finished his thoughts at last.

"Oh, right then." A flash of pain passed over the Baggins-man's eyes and his lips pressed together momentarily. It only took a moment for the man to pull himself together, though, and he smiled, again, even if it was a bit forced. "Just a moment then." He nodded and turned to face the hallway, but before he could even open his mouth to call for them, Kili had flung himself from his hiding spot - _the same damned doorway that Dwalin had spotted_ - with a burst of speed and an ecstatic cry.

"Dalin! Bwalin!" Kili flung himself at the giant, his pet names for their uncles falling easily from his mouth, and started talking a thousand miles a minute - describing their adventures and their host and their host's home and everything that they'd learned. Dwalin grunted with the impact of catching him, but didn't release him from the hug, and though he didn't smile, his eyes sparkled madly.

Fili took a more dignified approach and simply stepped out of the shadows. Dwalin's eyes went to him immediately, and he received a nod for his efforts. Fili watched his brother's antics a few moments longer - _had the Baggins-man allowed Kili those extra sodas to spoil him while he still had the chance or to punish the ones who were taking them away?_ - then caught Dwalin's eye again and gave a jerk of his head toward the back of the house.

_Our things_, he signed.

Dwalin nodded.

Fili turned to look at the Baggins-man, offered him a soft smile, and raised both eyebrows.

The Baggins-man answered with a smile of his own. "Of course I'll help."

"At least I know where the two of you have gotten your 'talkative' natures from, then." The man quipped, once they were out of hearing.

Fili laughed and made his way to the den to grab their bags while the Baggins-man moved to the kitchen to fetch the scones. The two made their way back to the front door – _he wanted to warn about keeping trinkets out where wandering hands could slip them away, but if his advice was heeded then the place wouldn't the Baggins-man's home_ – to see that Dwalin had dragged Kili from the doorway and down the path a little ways and that Balin was now standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry for my brother's manners, he's never been one for unnecessary words." Balin offered the Baggins-man a warm smile and handshake – _the man had a good sense of balance, the boxes didn't wobble once_ – before beaming at Fili. Fili watched as the wise man's eyes flickered over the new bags and saw the questions that would be asked after the lot of them left. "Do you need help with that, lad?"

Fili shook his head. "Nah, I've got it."

He watched as the Baggins-man passed over the two boxes of treasured food to Balin, with explicit instructions to not allow the boys to eat them all themselves, and certainly not in one sitting, as well as with the advice that they made for good bribes. Fili made an insulted sound, but it was done in jest.

Finished giving his directions, the Baggins-man turned back to Fili. "You be careful, now, the both of you." The older of Dis' sons gave the man an indulgent smile and the Baggins-man huffed and shook his head. "I know that you take care of each other, but I'll worry myself over you scoundrels."

Fili nodded and tried to look contrite. "You shouldn't. It's not like any of them will let us out of their sights for long."

The Baggins-man raised a single eyebrow in dispute. "You mean like in the markets." Fili had the grace to blush, but not enough to stop his grin. "Just, remember to eat and be careful of ..." here the man glanced at Balin momentarily. "Be careful of where you practice your hobbies, yes?" He paused again and looked away a moment. When his gaze returned to Fili's again, his eyes were suspiciously bright. "And if you have need for something - anything at all, either of you - you send word and I'll find a way for it to reach you, okay?"

Fili felt his throat tighten dangerously, so he nodded rather than risk speaking and, on an impulse, stepped forward to hug the man who had been so kind to his brother and him. The Baggins-man tensed a moment in surprise, but returned the embrace. The pair of them were nearly knocked to the ground another moment later, though, and Fili knew that his younger brother's arms were wrapped around them both.

"Don't fret, Master Boggins, we'll write!" Kili's voice was bright and full of laughter and promise. "And we'll vid-call you so much you'll beg us to leave off!"

"You'd better," the Baggins-man's smile was watery, but still present as the three of them disentangled. "I'll hold you to that, the both of you."

Fili only nodded again, unable to say anything else. He caught Balin's eyes again and if the older man had been showing hints of curiosity before, he was nearly overflowing with it now.

The Baggins-man took a deep breath and nodded. "Well, off with you, then. I'd hate to make the lot of you late for anything. Wouldn't be proper."

Fili nodded and nudged Kili over toward the bags. He clapped the Baggins-man on the shoulder once more before picking up his own and moving to where Dwalin stood closer to the street, waiting for them. He didn't have the heart to tell his host - _former, now_ - that vid-calls were difficult to make when they were always on the move. He didn't tell him that sometimes money was too tight to afford eating three times a day and that their hobby wasn't really so much of a hobby as it was a necessity. He didn't say any of that, but when he glanced back to the Baggins-man's eyes, he thought the man knew anyway.

Balin finished whatever formalities it was that people fond of words – _they should've had Balin over sooner, the two would've talked the sun down and back up again_ – engaged in while he tossed his bags - _carefully, didn't want to scuff their new things so soon_ - into the trunk of the vehicle. It took a moment to realize that Kili was no longer talking a thousand words a minute and the strangeness was enough to tear Fili's gaze from watching the Baggins-man closing his front door - _and didn't that make his chest twinge something fierce_ - to where his younger brother was standing, almost unnaturally still.

He brushed their elbows together and raised an eyebrow. Kili turned to him, grinning like a madman - _and didn't that promise something fun?_ - and glanced to where Dwalin and Balin were conversing quietly, then to the tires of the vehicle, and then to the Lobelia-woman's home across the way. The Lobelia-woman was standing in the front window of her home, scowling as if the four of them had gone stomping through her precious gardens...

Fili's eyes widened and he turned to Kili, only to find him nodding. Fili let his head fall back and laughter poured out of him. Kili joined him and Fili felt some of the ache in his chest lighten.

"Come on, old men," he called. "Let's get going, then!" He waited until the two men came closer and dropped his voice a touch before continuing. "Just one more thing before we leave, though. Do you see that garden, just across the street?"


	4. Good Morning

Ack - here, have another chapter. Be warned, though, there are some feels in this one (of the lonely variety).

Theme song - Empty House by Delta Spirit

* * *

District Shire - _and Hobbiton, in particular_ - was a rather unexciting place.

That wasn't to say that it was a dull or dreary place, full of tall, impersonal buildings and the cold, blank faces of strangers who didn't care to know your name, nor was it a stale or stodgy place, where social formalities were followed as if they were laws and anything different was looked upon with disdain. No, District Shire - _and Hobbiton, in particular_ - was simply a place where exciting things did not occur. Interesting things sometimes happened, and amusing things were quite the frequent sight, but things that could truly be called exciting just didn't happen.

Except, of course, for the one time they did.

Bilbo sat on a wooden bench - _fashioned by two sets of hands that were better suited for mischief than they were for crafting_ - and recalled the handful of months - _five years ago, now, how had so much time passed?_ - when excitement came in the form of two foreign boys. Two foreign boys with empty stomachs and overfull hearts and clever schemes. His home, which had seemed only a touch too spacious before their arrival, was now almost painfully quiet and near deathly still. Every corner and cranny of the building held some memory or other of their presence and it was enough to keep his heart aching, but not always in a bad way.

The vid-calls that had been promised had never come, but he had half known to expect as much. The boys had a tendency to forget to call their own mother and he certainly didn't expect to rank higher in their hearts than she did. Still, it didn't prevent his thoughts from wandering to where they might be now and how they were doing. Was Fili still tying those silly knots in an effort to keep his fingers dexterous enough for his less savory pastimes? Bilbo still needed to check to see if there was such a thing as a language based on knot-work, or if it had been yet another of the young man's stretched stories. And was Kili still practicing with that BB gun he'd picked up during his stay? He'd certainly showed a remarkable talent for marksmanship, despite his complaints that the item was more of a toy than a weapon. Come to think of it, both boys seemed to have a more thorough knowledge of weaponry than he thought anyone their age ought to. Between that and how quickly they became cautious around strangers - _and how well they hid it_ - Bilbo had seen more than enough to keep him worrying over them in their absence.

And Dis - how was she doing? He knew that either she was ill at the time he knew her or that she had been recently before, although they all seemed to have agreed not to mention her condition aloud. He had overheard enough to gather that she was able to live more comfortably - _financially_ - without her sons present, but had seen in her eyes how distressed she was that they were so far away. Bilbo had taken to giving her updates twice a week while the two young men had been his guests - _after the initial call, of course _- and he'd fast found himself looking forward to her dry humor and sharp wit. She had reassured him that he could call after her sons left, but the idea had left him feeling awkward, as if he might be intruding or imposing in some way. She knew how to contact him, as well, though, so it wasn't as if she couldn't reach out to him if she -

The sudden presence of a shadow startled Bilbo out of his thoughts. Ignoring the mental voice - _familiar, teasing, and much too young_ - that scolded him for not keeping track of his surroundings better, Bilbo took in the person blocking his sunlight.

The man was tall - _terribly tall_ - dressed in a smart, soft grey suit - _complete with a fedora of the same shade and a soft pink tie_ - and wore polished, black shoes. Familiar blue eyes seemed to shine down at him with an impish light and, in his left hand, was a cane crafted of dark wood, the head of it a well-polished steel with worn leather wrapped around it for grip. His hair was grey and cropped short, although, Bilbo seemed to recall it being a bit darker the last time he'd laid eyes on it.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo felt a smile stretch across his face and he blinked just to be sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. "Good morning!"

"What do you mean?" The older man's eyes narrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down, but the playful light remained. "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel that this is a good morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?"

"All of them at once, old man," Bilbo's grin turned cheeky. "And that you're having entirely too much fun, if the color of your hair is anything to go by - either that, or you're investing far too much effort into coordinating your outfits."

The older man answered with a grin of his own. "Ah, I'm not so vain as that, my dear. My age, I'm afraid, is finally catching up with me."

"Well, don't just stand there - come in, come in!" Bilbo motioned to the gate with a fluttering hand, moving over on the bench as he did. "Have yourself a seat. Have you come very far? I see that you're still dragging Foe-Hammer along behind you," he motioned to the walking stick.

"That I am, that I am." Gandalf chuckled as he moved past the gate, but made no move to settle next to the younger man.

"Is it still bashing bandits and brigands about the head or has your venerable age forced the mighty thing into retirement?" Bilbo tried to keep his face straight as he asked question, knew that the game was all the more fun if the illusion of seriousness was maintained, but feared that his composure was slipping.

"Oh, I can barely keep it in check, actually," the older man replied with mock-gravity. "Its thirst for blood allows me little rest." He nodded as swept his gaze over the front yard. "This certainly wasn't here last I came by," he nodded to the bench. "Is it very new?"

"Oh, a few years old now," Bilbo's smile faded a touch. "Some guests of mine put it together for me while they were visiting."

The older man's eyes searched the younger's for a moment before he nodded. "I find myself thirsty for a cup of your most excellent tea, actually, if it's not an imposition. Do you still have any of that ambrosia left?"

Bilbo felt his heart stutter in his chest and fought to keep his eyes from widening. "You know, I just might." He nodded to himself and took a steadying breath before he moved to his feet. "Would you like to come inside while I brew it up?"

"If it won't be any trouble, of course," Gandalf gave a bit of a bob - _too much to be a nod of the head, but not enough to be a full bow_ - and followed Bilbo as the younger man led the way inside.

Bilbo moved toward the kitchen, striking up an easy conversation about Gandalf's travels and where the older man was staying and how long he'd be lingering this time. He struggled to calm his heart as he spoke, and Gandalf, showing the wisdom his age afforded him, allowed the younger man to babble on and answered his questions as appropriate. It wasn't until Bilbo had the water poured and had brought the two mugs to the table, where Gandalf had already found a seat, that he allowed the conversation to turn to more delicate topics.

"So, speaking of the nectar of the gods," Bilbo spoke with a bit of a huff and tried to keep from giving his friend a reproachful look. "You about gave me a heart attack, old man, and don't pretend that this is the first time you've greeted me with such a scare. I'll be as grey as you are far before my time if you keep these pranks up."

Gandalf took his grousing in good humor. "You're still young yet. A bit of excitement every now and then is good for you, I'd dare say. Gets the heart pumping." He blew gently at his tea before taking a sip. "Codes and double-speak aside, this truly is a well-blended brew."

Bilbo took a tentative taste of his own and hummed his agreement. "I should hope so," he reached across the table for the honey and a spoon. "I had one of my cousins mix it for me, for times like this."

Gandalf nodded, opened his mouth to speak and then hesitated. He took another mouthful of his tea, instead, and watched Bilbo as if he was searching for something specific. Bilbo sighed at this, but allowed the older man his thoughts.

After the few moments of silence had stretched into several minutes, Bilbo cleared his throat. "About Mahal, then?"

"Ah, yes, of course," Gandalf blinked and shifted in his seat, glancing around the kitchen as he did. "I see you're still living alone, then?"

Bilbo blinked, and then frowned. It was a rude thing to do to a guest, but Gandalf had been rude to begin with – _showing up without even a vid-call, broaching such a worrying topic of conversation and then ignoring any and all attempts to discuss it_ – and, at this point, was more family than friend. "I am... still. Are you still between lovers, as well, then?"

Had Bungo Baggins been here to witness such a question, he'd have been scandalized, but Belladonna would've been beside herself with laughter at her son's gall. As it was, Gandalf snorted into his tea and set the beverage down rather hastily.

"I am, in fact," his eyes nearly danced with mirth. "Thank you for asking."

"Oh, splendid," Bilbo nodded and took another sip of his tea. "Now that we're done with the pleasantries, then, maybe we can discuss why you decided to arrive at my doorstep, with no forewarning, and tease about a very dangerous bit of information only to avoid it once we're safely able to speak of it?" He completed the question with the arch of a single eyebrow, but Gandalf seemed more amused than chastised.

"Apologies, young Master Baggins," - _and didn't Bilbo's heart ache at the memory of a younger voice calling him Boggins instead_ - "no offence meant, I promise." The older man took - _quite deliberately_ - another nip of his drink before continuing. "Directly to the point, then, yes?" As he continued, though, his voice lost all traces of merriment and his eyes took on a guarded sort of concern. "There is a group of people who have come to me seeking someone with knowledge of Mahal."

Bilbo's heart didn't stutter this time - it stopped.

He gasped as it restarted, nearly inhaling his tea as he did. "I - I'm sorry?"

Gandalf pressed on. "The group is trustworthy and their goals are noble, but they cannot move forward with their intentions unless they have someone knowledgeable with them." He paused, hesitance flashing across his face for a moment as he did. "You are the only person I could vouch for that met that description."

Bilbo coughed, struggling to get his breath back, and shook his head violently. "I'm sorry, but what? There's a group of people seeking out a _scientist _who has _working knowledge_ of that _damned,_ ever-clean, everlasting cure-all to all of Middle-Earth's energy troubles - a scientist that the bastard Smaug _hasn't_ gotten his hands on yet, I might add - and your first thought is to _give them my name?!_" His voice escaped him as a hiss - it was the only alternative he had to yelling his surprise at the man sitting across from him.

Gandalf leveled him a look that could only be described as unimpressed. "Do you really think, my dear Bilbo, that I would betray your trust and safety so easily?"

"No!" Bilbo sputtered. "I think that you're human, same as I am, and that there are people out there," he waved his hand in wide, frantic motion, "who spend their whole lives lying so that they've the talent for _anyone_ to believe them and that there are _wyrms_," he nearly spat the word, "who _hire_ said liars to find people who are _very careful _about _not being found_!"

He hadn't shouted, didn't dare risk raising his voice to that volume while discussing such topics, but Bilbo was panting now all the same. He knew, truly he did, that Gandalf would never knowingly betray him like that - _not after keeping his secret so long_ - but to be so careless as to hand his name out to a folk Bilbo had not even met in passing!

"Easy, friend, easy." Gandalf's eyes softened. "No harm was meant. As I said, these people are trustworthy. I trust them with my life and, after listening to their intentions, I'd trust them with yours, as well." He hesitated again. Bilbo was fast growing a dislike for this habit that his friend had recently acquired. In all the time that he'd known the old man, hesitating was not something he could recall him doing often, if at all. "I thought you might be inclined to assist them willingly, actually, as there are two young men, whom we're both familiar with, who would be most grateful to have your assistance on this venture."

Bilbo's heart did stop that time - he was sure of it. His heart stopped and the breath in his lungs vanished and, for a handful of heartbeats, he honestly worried he might faint. A distant voice, speaking from a far corner of his mind and sounding more than a bit like his father, expressed relief that the mug he'd been drinking from was both empty and already on the table's surface as he was sure he'd have dropped it otherwise.

"W - what?" He licked his lips and prayed to the Valar that he'd heard wrong. "Say again?"

The smile Gandalf offered him was kind, almost pitying. "Two young men, a blonde and a brunette, I believe. I can't recall their names at the moment, but they've spoken more than fondly of you, I'm told. In fact, if I'm recalling correctly, the younger of the two - they're brothers, you see - has just celebrated his twentieth birthday."

Bilbo held up a single hand, imploring his friend to give him a moment to process this. His heart was pounding and he still couldn't quite catch his breath. There was no way - _no possible way_ - that two such good, kind-hearted young men as his boys - _as his Fili and Kili_ - could have found a way to get involved with anything as dangerous as Mahal and everything it represented.

"You lie." It was meant to be an accusation, but came out sounding more like a question. He searched his friend's face for any sign that this was a joke. It would be the most distasteful joke that Bilbo had ever heard, but he would forgive Gandalf, swore to the Valar that he would, if he'd just admit to it right now. He licked his lips. "You lie to me, old man."

The old man shook his head, a twinge of regret in his eyes. "I'm afraid not. I am sorry, my dear." He set his mug down - _empty by the sound of it_ - and offered another gentle smile. "I had hoped that it would be something you might be willing to discuss with me over supper," another of those pauses and oh how Bilbo was beginning to loathe them, "and perhaps with a few others, as well."

Bilbo pressed his lips together and wrapped his hands around his empty mug. He wished - _suddenly, idly, violently_ - that it wasn't so empty, as he found his throat dry again, but wishes did not stomachs fill.

He rubbed the back of one hand across his lips and closed his eyes. He hated that he was about to ask this question, hated even more that the answer would be so pivotal in his acceptance of this impromptu dinner that Gandalf had decided he should host, but he would not allow himself the luxury of pretending otherwise. "The boys?"

Gandalf, fortunately for Bilbo, didn't force the younger man to clarify. "Yes," he nodded, his gaze warm again. "In fact, I was specifically asked to give you forewarning of their arrival. Something about promised scones?"

Bilbo felt his mouth curl into a smile despite his best efforts. "Those two! Of all the things they could've passed along with you, it would be that. They're not boys at all," a burst of affectionate laughter surprised him. "No, they're bottomless eating machines - the pair of them."

Gandalf chuckled and shook his head. "So I have no need to inform our guests that the meeting will be canceled, then?"

Bilbo threw a weak scowl at the old man. _At least he had the decency to look abashed, really, the nerve of him..._ "No," he allowed himself a cross huff. "No. I'll host them a dinner if you've already promised them one, but heed this, old man, and listen well," he sat forward and locked eyes with his oldest friend, forcing all the seriousness of his mood into the look that he could. "I will feed them and I will hear them out, but _I_ will be the one to decide the worthiness of this... this _adventure_. And I will not be bribed, bullied, or cajoled into helping these folk - not by you or the boys or anyone else - and I don't care what you've told them otherwise. Have I made myself clear?"

Gandalf nodded his understanding, the gravity of Bilbo's words reflected in his eyes. "Yes, old friend, very clear."

The younger man let loose a sigh and made his way to his feet, taking his empty mug in hand again. He looked to his friend, one last question on his lips – _how did they find out about that cursed thing? how much do they know? why do they know? _– but couldn't muster the nerve to ask it. He settled for clearing his throat, instead. "Good. Now, since you've seen fit to invite your friends to enjoy my hospitality, I'll allow you to help me make supper for them."

A snort escaped the old man, but he stood as well. "Most kind of you, my dear."

Bilbo nodded. "I try."

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

It wasn't the sound of the doorbell that surprised Bilbo - _although the suddenness did give him a startle_ - but the rapid and repeated ringing of it, accompanied by a pounding on the door - _somewhere between frantic and playful_ - that unnerved him so completely. Unfortunately, at that particular moment Bilbo stood in his kitchen, a fine dusting of flour over the majority of his clothing - _but none on his face, thank you kindly_ - and both his hands sticky with dough.

Morning had bled into afternoon since Gandalf had arrived and despite Bilbo's sullen threats, the old man remained sitting at the kitchen table, engaging the younger man in conversation rather than trying his hand at any sort of kitchen-related skill. This was, Bilbo insisted, for the safety of his kitchen, as he remembered - _quite clearly, in fact_ - a night in which Gandalf had nearly burnt the cozy home down in his attempts to assist a much younger Bilbo in the making of a simple cheese and noodle dish. The following years had seen a dramatic increase in Bilbo's cooking skills, but the same could not be said of Gandalf's.

The wise –_mischievous_ - blue eyes met Bilbo's and the two shared a fond, if exasperated, look before the older man stood. "If I may?"

Bilbo huffed, amused. "Please do. And you let those terrors know that if they've so much as scuffed the paint on that door, I'll have them repainting the whole house – dinner be damned!"

Gandalf chuckled, took his cane in hand, and made his way to the front door, the shuffling of his feet and the tapping of his cane familiar sounds as we went. Bilbo heard the front door open and the sound of several voices conversing before it was closed again.

Bilbo smiled to himself and began spooning the mixture onto the pan he'd prepared, silently muddling over which of the brothers should have the bowl and which should have the spoon. That they'd be begging for scraps of the batter was a certainty and he wasn't one to play favorites - _he couldn't recall who'd last had the honor of having the bowl, but five years could do funny things to the details of a person's memories_ - so he'd probably let them settle the matter between themselves. It was the fairest way to go about things, after all, and they seemed to have their own system of keeping track of favors and boons that passed between them.

He nodded to himself, pleased with his decision, and turned back to the half-filled sheet of unbaked pastries before he paused and frowned. The house was quiet. Too quiet for having just received guests and much too quiet for the guests he'd been expecting.

He took a breath and paused in his work, standing still and straining his ears, but only the soft ticking of the oven-timer and the distant tinkling of the wind-chimes setup out back reached him. He let out his breath in a soft, annoyed huff and went back to his cooking, ignoring the pang of disappointment the silence of the house brought.

Gandalf had expected the boys to arrive about now, but that was certainly no guarantee that they wouldn't be arriving closer to nightfall, or even that day, come to think of it. It hadn't been often – _they truly were good souls at heart_ - but twice during their visit, they had ventured out to explore the surrounding neighborhoods and not returned until the next day. The first time it had happened, he'd been so beside himself with worry that if he hadn't already known how stressful the presence of the watch was to the young men, he would have called and demanded that they and every neighbor on the block help in hunting the boys down. Fortunately, Bilbo had been astute enough to notice their discomfort and the boys had returned just after second breakfast the next day and all had been well once more.

Bilbo paused in his efforts, resting his assistant against the edge of the bowl momentarily, and chewed his lower lip while searching for other, more cheerful lines of thought.

Gandalf had certainly been gone a good while. He must've stepped outside to speak with whoever had come knocking. Perhaps it had been a distressed tourist or some other such -

All at once there were hands on his shoulders, spinning him round, and, before he could think to do otherwise, he tightened his grip on his mixing spoon and allowed the sudden momentum to carry said spoon into his assailant's face with rather more force than he was sure he wanted. A yelp answered his attack and there were suddenly fewer hands on his person.

Blinking, Bilbo fought to reorient himself and gasped.

Before him stood a blond young man - _early twenties, beard short and scruffy, bright blue eyes_ - clinging to Bilbo's shoulders as he hunched over, laughter falling from his lips. Beside him was a brunette young man - _barely twenty, if that, with a face full of stubble and familiar brown eyes_ - currently wearing a smile that hovered between outraged and proud while he clutched at a rapidly darkening bruise forming at his temple.

Bilbo gaped at the pair, eyes moving between them, and struggled to find words - any words at all. Kili - _was that really him? When did he get so tall?_ - seemed to be having the same trouble, but looked as if he were trying to figure out who to scowl at, as well. Fili, though, still hanging off of Bilbo's shoulders as though they were the only things holding him up, was laughing so hard that he was beginning to gasp for breath.

"Your faces! By the Valar!" The blonde's own face was beginning to turn red with his mirth. "Oh, I wish I'd had a capture ready -" he trailed off into giggles.

Over his head, Bilbo saw that Kili's eyes had narrowed - _that poor boy was going to have a nasty lump before long_ – focusing his ire on his brother. Bilbo arched an eyebrow in sympathy, before a wicked grin curled across his face. Kili's eyes widened marginally, flickering between Bilbo, Fili and the assistant, before answering with a grin of his own.

A soft whistle preceded a second muted thwack and the blonde's laugher ended with a yelp.

"_Mister Bilbo!?_" And now it seemed it was Kili's turn to gasp for breath between gales of laughter, while Fili pouted and nursed a new wound.

Bilbo's eyes narrowed again. Oh no, this would not do. Those two had given him a nasty fright, and while he hadn't meant to hit the younger brother as hard as he had, he was of the mind to think that perhaps both of them needed a bit more sense smacked into them.

He raised his wooden spoon again and both young men jumped back and fell silent. They shared a look - _and oh, how he had missed their silent conversations_ - before retreating another step and holding up their hands in surrender.

"Master Boggins," Kili gave a cautious bow and Bilbo fought to keep from smiling. "You've, uh, ... we've ..." He licked his lips and it dawned on Bilbo that the two lads were looking nervous now. "It's been a little while, hasn't it?"

Bilbo sighed and allowed his stern look to melt. "Yes - yes, it has."

He set his assistant down and opened his arms and was immediately engulfed in an embrace between two still-boisterous young men. Bilbo clutched the two lads to him and looked immediately to the ceiling, hoping that the lads wouldn't notice the extra moisture at his eyes. It was a ridiculous thing, to be so emotional over something so simple as seeing two friends again. Because that's all the lads were, was friends. He had no claim to them, save for the one visit, but his relief at finding them safe and sound - _and older, wasn't that odd_ - was almost as overwhelming as his pleasure at seeing the pair of them again.

"From famine to feast, then?" He spoke as the boys finally pulled back.

Fili's eyes were soft and held, for a moment, a silent apology while Kili's were bright and perhaps a bit more moist than Bilbo had expected to see. The sight of them, hale and whole and grinning - it eased the ache from Bilbo's chest some. It was good to have them back.

Bilbo allowed his smile to soften, but a blur of movement from the corner of his eye had him lunging for his wooden spoon once more. He swung it as soon as it was in his hand, but the boys managed to jump out of range of the utensil, if not Bilbo's renewed glare.

"Scoundrels!" he scowled.

Laughter from the doorway interrupted anything else that might've been said, and the three turned - _the boys careful to stay out of reach_ - to see Gandalf laughing, without shame, at the group of them.

Bilbo switched out the target of his glare. "Don't think I won't knock you about the head, old man. I know you played a part in this, as well." He paused to throw a distrustful look at the miscreants - _his timing was good, they'd begun edging closer to the batter again_ - who offered him a pair of beatific smiles. "I'd accuse you of planting the idea in their heads, but I know them too well to lay the blame solely at _your_ feet."

"How long have you been standing there, anyway?" Kili's tone was sullen, but his eyes were sparkling when Bilbo glanced. Instinct had him tearing his eyes to Fili next, but the blond was still where he'd been last, eyes as full of laughter as his brother's were.

"Long enough that I'm not sure which party I feel more pity for," Gandalf's words were warm and light in a way that Bilbo hadn't heard in ages. Kili offered a rude gesture to the older man, but an elbow from Fili and a sharp look from Bilbo had him looking sheepish. "Sympathy aside, though, I think it would be best if I made my way to intercept the rest of our guests. I know as well as anyone else how the simple roads of Hobbiton can be more confusing than they first appear."

Bilbo let his frown flicker into a smile and nodded. "That's for the best then, the Valar know I need fewer trouble makers around here - especially when they've shown a tendency for working together." He felt his eyes narrow a touch as a thought occurred to him. "Just how many more guests will I be receiving, again?"

Gandalf straightened his posture and readjusted his grip on his cane. "Ah, a very good question to ask, especially as you're preparing tonight's meal. I believe I'll allow our younger friends to answer that for you and I'll see myself out. After all, I have a number of new allies to guide here, don't I?" And before anyone could make a sound of protest, the older man had spun round on his heels and, only a handful of moments later, the front door could be heard to open and shut in rapid succession.

Bilbo released an aggravated sigh. He would think the man's age nothing but a farce and a lie if he didn't possess memories of the man looking old when he was still a child, himself. Speaking of mischievous youths...

He lashed out with the wooden spoon without looking and was rewarded with the sound of solid wood hitting flesh and another indignant yelp.

A single look showed Fili – _surprising,_ _usually it was the younger one_ - nursing his wounded hand while he retreated the few paces needed to put him out of Bilbo's reach, while Kili all but cackled on the far side of the room.

"It seems that your reflexes are as sharp as ever, Mister Bilbo," the blonde spoke with a rueful smile.

"Indeed they are," Bilbo nodded, a wicked smile curling his lips. "It's too bad I can't say the same for either of you."

Fili's eyes warmed with shared amusement - _he always had a good sense of humor_ - but Kili let out a sharp noise of protest. "We've learned plenty of new skills since last we've been here. You didn't even know we were here 'til we grabbed hold of you, did you?"

"That much is true, yes," Bilbo chuckled. "But whoever taught you your sneaking did you a disservice in failing to teach you how to dodge the results of startling someone so." He shook his spoon at the younger man as he spoke before setting it down again. He looked from one brother to the other and marveled at how much they had changed. "So you have been learning new things, then, and not simply searching for new and uncharted suburban communities to terrorize?"

The two shared a quiet moment, and Bilbo was pleased with himself that he still remembered as much of their silent language as he did - _a raised eyebrow meant a question, three rapid blinks in succession was provocation, a stern look was either a warning or some sort of intimidation, but a clenched fist definitely meant 'no'_ - before Fili spoke again.

"We've managed to keep busy," his voice was a touch deeper, although he was just as slow to speak as he was before. "And we've even managed to avoid scaring the locals," he paused, laughter in his eyes again. "Well, as much as we can, anyway."

Bilbo opened his mouth to reply when a metallic ringing filled the air. All three startled - _he caught the way both boys were reaching for something behind them before they could stop themselves_ - and then dissolved into laughter. Bilbo moved to the oven to fetch the latest batch of scones before they could burn and heard a whimpering sound behind him.

"That's the smell," the brunette nearly moaned, daring to move closer. "I'd fight off whole armies for one of your scones, Master Boggins - I swear it."

A burst of laughter escaped their host. It really was good to have the pair of them back - _home_ - again. "That's Bilbo to the both of you," he scolded as he carefully arranged the scones in a cloth covered basket. "None of this 'mister' or 'master' business. And I believe that you would, young sir, the pair of you seem to have the recklessness and the pain tolerance for such foolishness." His task finished he turned back to the pair of them once more. "Well, what are you waiting for? Wash your hands and come help me with all this mess."

They answered with laughter and crowded their way to the kitchen sink. Bilbo closed his eyes, took a moment to listen as the sound of them filled in all the empty, hollow corners of his home again, and let out a relieved breath.

Time passed in whirlwind of chatter and movement after that. Dishes were prepared and cooked and stored away and five years of adventures and gossip was shared. Bilbo looked up at the clock and startled to see that two hours had passed since their arrival and he still hadn't thought to ask how many guests he'd be receiving. He didn't think anything of asking the question of his young friends, but when the younger of the brothers provided him an answer, he was sure he wasn't hearing right.

"_How many?!_"

Kili shrugged, frowning at the vegetables he was chopping. "There's the pair of us and probably Gandalf and ..." he spared a quick glance at Fili, who was still peeling potatoes - _with a knife instead of the peeler Bilbo had set out_ - but if there was another exchange, Bilbo missed it. "And, uh, eleven others. No one that we haven't told you about, of course - not a stranger among them."

Bilbo snorted. "The number of people you've spoken of to me could fill a small city," he quipped. He worried his lower lip while he reviewed all that they'd prepared so far and what else he might put together with the contents of his cupboards. "And half of them would burn my home to the ground, dance in the embers, and piss the ashes cold." He pulled out his largest mixing bowl and stomped over to the pantry to fill it with as much as it would hold. He set the bowl down on the counter a bit harder than he intended, but didn't spare either of the young men a dark look as he did so. "Will your mother, at least, be among them to help me wrangle everyone?"

"Um, no, actually," Kili spoke, his movements slowing. He threw an uncertain look over his shoulder at Fili. "Not this time, anyway."

That was an interesting reaction.

Bilbo leaned back against the counter and watched the two boys carefully. "That's a shame," _was that a warning look that Fili just sent his younger brother?_ "Is she aware that you're here?"

"Yes!" The word succeeded in sounding both startled and sullen. "We just got done visiting her, actually."

"Good," Bilbo nodded and turned back to the ingredients he was setting up on his stretch of counter space. "The poor thing worries when she doesn't hear from you... much like another person I know."

Bilbo listened to two sounds of distress, followed by two voices spilling excuses and placations over each other, and smiled to himself. Whatever else happened tonight, it was worth it to have his young men home again.


	5. Good Afternoon

Theme song - The Boys Are Back In Town by Thin Lizzy

* * *

District Shire was a fucking pain in the ass.

A whole fucking district with no real military presence to speak of - _farmers and merchants, the lot of them_ - and subpar defenses. Not that the district didn't serve a purpose. Somebody had to make the food and sell the stuff - _it sure as fuck wasn't going to be Dwalin Fundinson_ - and District Shire did the job better than any other district in Middle-Earth.

It wasn't that he hated the district - _there wasn't a single fuck among them with the nerve to look at him wrong, let alone cuss at him_ - but it pissed him off at a fundamental level that a district as well prepared as Erebor had fallen to a snot-nosed jack-ass like Urulóki, while districts like the Shire just lay open for the taking and no one blinked twice at them. It wasn't fair, but nothing ever was. That was a lesson that had been beaten into Dwalin lifetimes ago.

Dwalin pulled up to an intersection and glared at the street signs.

Hobbiton was the biggest city in the whole damned district _- fucking maze of streets leading to a bunch of fucking holes in the ground was what it was_ - and of course it was more suburbs than anything else. He'd been lucky the last time he'd been this way. Balin had been with him - _a head for maps, his brother_ – and had made navigating this bullshit look like a cake walk.

He sighed and scanned his surroundings. Was he supposed to turn left here? He was pretty sure it was a left. He cocked his head to the side and took a more thorough look at where the road headed. It looked like, further down the way, there might be a park of some sort. Baggins lived next some sort of public park. Fuck, the brats had gone on enough about it that Dwalin should be able to walk the paths blindfolded.

He glanced down the other way, just to be sure, but ended up turning left, anyway.

Sure enough, half way down the street was a huge public-type garden and the house just before it sported a reflective sticker on the front of the mail-box, just like Gandalf had promised. It didn't hurt that he remembered peeling out in the front yard of the house across the way, either. It'd been at the brats' request - a parting gift for Baggins, they had called it.

He coasted up to the curb in question and cut the engine of his bike, throwing a glance at the house across the street in time to see a woman glaring out the front window. He turned to level a glare of his own at her and she disappeared behind the curtains. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Fucking civilians.

He stood, removed his helmet and took a moment to look up and down the street again – _three cross streets in sight, only five of the yards had fences, mostly families, but not many owned dogs_ - before he tucked his helmet under his arm and made for the door.

He knocked once, then twice, and then three times. It wasn't much of a code, but it worked well enough to announce him as a friend. The sounds that were reaching him were too varied and muffled to identify properly, but it wasn't long before he was able to pick up on someone approaching the door.

" - not serious! Either of you so much as _think_ of touching them and I'll ensure you both watch while I feed every last one to our guests!"

Dwalin glared at the door. What the fuck?

The door opened to reveal the same civilian he'd met here five years ago - hazel eyes, light brown hair, fair skin, below average height, soft around the middle. Not a physical threat, but smart enough that he made sure that Dwalin was who he said he was before he let the brats in sight. It had been enough to earn Dwalin's grudging respect at the time.

Baggins' eyes widened and his whole frame tensed up when he caught sight of Dwalin in his doorway, just like last time.

Dwalin narrowed his eyes. It was a stupid reaction, especially in hostile situations. They'd have to focus on getting rid of this instinct to freeze before they'd be able to teach Baggins any self-defense - and he'd be damned if he let the little know-it-all come along with them without him knowing how to defend himself.

Despite having a shit first reaction, Baggins seemed to come back to himself pretty quick. "Ah, Mister Dwalin, it's good to see you again." The smaller man nodded his head and took a few steps back, opening the door as he did. "I thought you'd be arriving a bit later... and with others."

Dwalin ignored Baggins, stepped inside, and scanned his immediate surroundings. Wooden floors. Boots would make a racket walking about on that, but - _three sets of shoes present, Baggins was barefoot_ - his host would be able to move with little noise. The hall continued ahead and curled around to the left, but a number of doors - _archways_ - opened in a staggered pattern along the length of them. The brats had appeared from different locations when he'd come to pick them up, so a lot of the rooms probably connected with each other. That meant for a difficult time navigating through the house for anyone unfamiliar with the layout. Good for defense. Dwalin would've been more impressed if he'd thought the place was designed like that on purpose.

Baggins closed the door - _didn't throw the lock_ - and cleared his throat. Dwalin waited until Baggins opened his mouth, though - _probably to repeat himself_ - before he answered.

"Nah. Had bus'ness of m'own to 'tend to 'fore I came this way."

Baggins blinked up at him and remained silent for a handful of seconds. Probably expected him to say more. Dwalin stopped himself from sneering at the scientist, but just barely.

"Right, then," Baggins muttered. "This way. I -"

"Dwalin!" The familiar cry came seconds before the impact - _the brat was getting too old for this_ - but the old soldier was used to such antics. "You're here! Where're the others? Did Thorin get lost? Is that your helmet? Which bike did you bring? Can I drive it? I'll be real careful! I won't even go very fast - or very far! Just down the street and back! Please? Hey, what are you doing? Dwalin? Uncle?! Ack!"

Dwalin dumped Kili on the ground and gave him a vicious grin. The chatter wasn't anything he'd never had to endure before, but he wouldn't suffer the brat to crawl over him like that before a stranger.

Kili looked up from where he was sprawled on the floor and flashed a smile at Baggins - _and how did the local merit being looked to first?_ - before offering up an apologetic look to Dwalin.

Dwalin snorted. Baggins didn't look overly thrilled, either. That suited Dwalin just fine.

A metallic ringing sound came from further in the home - _muffled by distance, the place must be well furnished_ - and stopped abruptly.

"Got it," another familiar voice called.

Baggins shot a look sharp look at Kili, who offered an entirely too innocent smile in return, before glancing back at Dwalin. "Well, as I was saying, this way, please. We're still preparing dinner for this evening, so we've yet to escape the kitchen."

Dwalin grunted in answer, stepped around the brat, and followed where Baggins was leading him. Behind him he heard Kili scramble to his feet and dash off elsewhere, whistling sharply as he went. Dwalin smirked and noted that Baggins narrowed his eyes. Whatever failings he might have, the local was clever enough to recognize a signal for what it was.

Kili was in the kitchen by the time Dwalin and Baggins arrived, his shoulder pressed to Fili's and their backs to the entrance. The line of their shoulders tensed as the two older men entered, but they gave no other sign that they'd heard anything.

Baggins cleared his throat rather pointedly and the two flinched - _that wasn't like them _- before turning - _Fili first, to buy Kili a few extra seconds, Kili was swallowing something_ - and flashing bright, toothy smiles. Baggins narrowed his eyes and gave a pointed look to the nearest counter top. There was nothing threatening present that he could see - _several bowls, some food, a wooden spoon_ - but the brats sprang apart and moved to put more distance between themselves and Baggins anyway. Dwalin gave the local a more thorough visual inspection, but if the man was hiding weapons on his person then he was better at it than Nori.

"Boys?" Baggins' tone could have been conversational, but for the thread of a threat lurking under it. Dwalin felt his jaw clench. "How many scones do you suppose I'll have, if I count them?"

Kili choked back a yelp and moved across the kitchen like his arse had been lit on fire. "Oh, I dunno - you know me, no head for numbers. Besides, I was with you and Dwalin the whole time, practically!"

Fili took a few steps back as well, nodding to Dwalin but keeping the bulk of his attention on Baggins. "And I've been at the sink for the past hour." The lad wasn't normally one for many words - _one of his better traits_ - but he was grinning in that cock-sure way that he did right before he, or his brother, made another comment about the grey in Thorin's hair or the shine of Dwalin's head.

Baggins gave a narrow look to each of the brats before he huffed and moved to the counter to go back to whatever it was he'd been mixing. The brothers tensed again when Baggins picked up the spoon - _was that what was making them squirm? _- but relaxed pretty quickly after that. Enough, anyway, that Kili seemed to find the breath to start up his chatter again.

The lad split his attentions between the three of them, going on about Dwalin's motorcycles and Dis' health - _shouldn't be talking about her in front of a local like that_ - and how much his aim had improved. Dwalin stood, leaning against the door frame for a bit, before he went to grab for the nearest chair.

The first time it scraped against the wood flooring had been an accident, but after the look Baggins had given him - _he was no youngling to be bullied about with looks, not like the brats were_ - he made sure to drag it across the floor from where it had started at the table to a cozy little corner of the kitchen proper.

Kili's words trailed off into silence and his gaze bounced continuously from Baggins to Dwalin and back. Fili hadn't moved from his station at the sink, but his movements slowed, as if he were waiting for something. Baggins narrowed his eyes again, at Dwalin this time, and the old soldier just smirked and fell back heavily into the chair. Let the lads take a lesson or two on how to break in a local.

Baggins only sighed, though, looking put out, before he turned his attention back to Kili. "I'll be eating every last scone myself, if the rest of your friends are the same."

Kili's eyes widened and even Fili looked up. "What? No!" Kili shot Dwalin a pleading look. "No! They're all well behaved!" Dwalin gave a rude snort and Kili nearly fell over himself in a panic. "Except, Dwalin. They're all nice and polite and Ori even knows which cutlery to use for fancy dinners! Just... just not Dwalin so much. And maybe Uncle." The lad spent another moment glancing between Baggins and Dwalin before he dove at his brother. "Where's the vid-com? I thought you had it with you."

Fili startled at the sudden attention, but otherwise tolerated his brother unexpectedly shoving hands into his pockets rather well. "Left boot," he muttered, shifting his stance so that he could wiggle the correct foot.

Kili fished the vid-com out without another word and backed toward the other entrance – _the one_ _he must've used to get to the kitchen first_ - waving the device in the air. "I'll, uh, I'll just be right back, then, yes? Just want to see how everyone's doing... see if anyone's lost... I'll, uh,... yeah I'll be right back."

Kili fled the room to the sound of Dwalin's bark of laughter. After Fili gave a pointed look at the door and then Baggins, Baggins sighed. "Go on, then. And let him know that I was joking, mostly."

Dwalin watched as the second of the brats left the room – _could just hear their voices if he strained his ears_ - and looked back to Baggins, tilting his head as he did. "It's the scones, then?"

Baggins raised an eyebrow. "I'm sorry?"

"The scones." Dwalin just now realized that the way Baggins had positioned himself, anyone entering the kitchen would have to move past him to reach the pastries. "That's 'ow ye've gotten 'em to mind ye."

Baggins blinked, then nodded. "One of the ways." He wore a smirk now. "Bribery can only do so much, after all."

Dwalin grunted in answer and relaxed into the chair, studying the odd local. Last time he fetched the brats from this place, they had gone on and on about the stranger - about his home and his neighbors and his opinions... mostly about his food, though. Not that he could blame them - _being well fed seemed like a luxury most days and the smells here were enough to start his mouth watering_ - but it certainly wasn't worth the amount of affection and charm the lads were showing the scientist.

Baggins certainly seemed to think so, though, didn't he? He nodded along to Kili's chatter and didn't press Fili for any verbal responses. He seemed to be used to their rough-housing, too - didn't even bat an eye when Kili tackled Dwalin in the hallway. Even the glares he gave them were made more of affection than they were of disapproval.

Dwalin shifted in his seat and glared at the local. If Grayhame hadn't been insistent that Baggins was the only one who could help them, Dwalin might be tempted to wring the smaller man's neck. Of course, there were plenty of things he could do to the know-it-all that wouldn't permanently damage him. Even leaving out the extremities, there was enough to damage that could keep him entertained. A blow or two to the stomach –

Kili's voice was heard suddenly, raised in volume and pitch - _must be talking to Dori, only ever got that high when Ori's oldest brother started ragging on him_ - and Dwalin shifted again. Best not to think about how to beat on the local while he was alone in the room with him. He fingered his boot knife and debated the merits of giving it another sharpening.

Baggins looked into one of the bowls he had nearby and muttered something to himself. He sighed, muttered again, and went through a door that had remained closed before now. A small room by the sound of it - a pantry judging by the sounds Baggins was making.

Dwalin listened for another moment before allowing a smirk to cross his face. Now would be the perfect time to investigate those scones the brats were always moaning on about.

He made his way across the room quickly enough. He gave another glance to the pantry door, before turning back to the baskets. It took longer than he'd anticipated to figure out which basket held the scones - _those rolls looked tempting, too_ – but he found them. The moment he was about to grab one, though, he caught a blur of movement from the corner of his eye and pain exploded across the back of his hand.

Dwalin didn't pause to think. His elbow jerked out, catching his assailant in the upper abdomen. He heard the sudden gust of air that meant his target was winded and reached out to shove the man's face into his rapidly rising knee. He then grabbed his assailant by the collar of his shirt and shoved him back against the wall. An arm across the throat kept his target pinned in place while he tried to figure out who the fuck was dumb enough to attack him.

Frozen beneath his arm was Baggins.

His nose was bloody now, and his face was a good deal more red, but the man managed to pull off looking outraged and terrified in equal parts. Dwalin glanced down and saw that Baggins still had a wooden spoon in his grip. Right, so that was what had his knuckles smarting.

Dwalin was just about to release the smaller man - _fucking idiot, sneaking up on a trained soldier like that_ - when a strangled noise came from the doorway. He and Baggins turned to find both the brats standing, gaping, in the entrance to the kitchen.

Dwalin released Baggins immediately, of course, and Fili rushed forward, grabbing a dishcloth along the way. Fili pressed the rag to Baggins' face, despite the local's protest, and Kili muttered something about calling back to whoever he was speaking to on the vid-com.

Kili crossed the room to hover over Baggins and took over the holding of the cloth from Fili - _his eyes again darting between the two older men_ - a small frown on his face the whole time. The glare Baggins was giving the youngest Durinson was more sullen than cross.

Fili spoke as he stepped around Baggins, his voice calm but his gaze cool. "What happened?"

Dwalin blinked. The lads weren't mad at him, were they? Not for reacting naturally to an attack?

"Id was an asidend, 'm sure," Baggins spoke up, his voice warped by the injury he'd taken. "I cau'd him drying to dake a scon' an' I didn' dink abou' how he'd rea'd do de assisdand."

The brats shared a look that had Fili clenching his fists and Kili frowning more severely.

Dwalin frowned and looked at the back of Fili's hand again, then at the back of his own. Sure enough, the bruises were enough in the right shapes to have been made by the same thing. Dwalin let his eyes narrow at Baggins, but bit back a growl - for now.

His eyes flickered over Kili's form and, almost immediately, he spotted the raised bruise that had formed at the lad's temple. "What's that?" he barked, not caring that his tone had Baggins startling.

The brats shared another look, this one's meaning more closed off to Dwalin.

"What's what?" Kili looked confused. If Dwalin hadn't had a part in raising the brats himself, he might've believed it.

"The bruise. The pretty colors you're wearing at the corner of your thick head," Dwalin all but growled.

Kili blinked - _the picture of surprise and confusion_ - but, again, Baggins spoke up.

"Id was an asidend." Baggins met Dwalin's eyes. Dwalin might have had some sliver of respect for the - _smaller, weaker_ - man if he wasn't busy trying to keep from giving the local a real beating. "De boys sdardled me - like I sdardled you - an', well," he shrugged. "Insdinc's dook over."

Dwalin cracked the knuckles of one hand and then the other. It would not be good to kill the man - not when he was the only scientist they'd found so far with the knowledge they needed. Well, if Greyhame was correct, anyway. It could be that Greyhame was exaggerating, though. If he was – _Balin would be able to tell_ - then they certainly wouldn't miss the little shit. He just needed to find something to distract the brats with for a second or two...

"Dwalin." Fili's voice held a note of warning.

Baggins' eyes were wider now. Good, the fucker understood how serious Dwalin was. Dwalin took a step closer, then, but Fili was still in the way, and Kili was moving to block him, as well. Fucking brats.

"Move," he didn't snarl, not at the brats, but it was a close thing.

Two sets of eyes hardened – _it was Hili glaring at him again, in stereo now _- and, behind them, Baggins started babbling about the lads minding their own business and how there wasn't any reason for being so cautious, that he and Dwalin could behave like civilized adults without their intervention.

"Well, lads, you were certainly right 'bout this place bein' -" the familiar voice, Balin's voice, cut off abruptly. Silence stretched and Dwalin could almost see the bemusement on his brother's face when he spoke next. "Well now, it looks 's if you've reacquainted yourself with our host already, brother. Care t'introduce me again or shall I have to make m'own pleasantries?"

Dwalin shifted so that he could meet Baggins' eyes again. "Baggins, this's Balin. Balin, this's Baggins."

One of the brats - _probably Kili_ - snorted, but everyone else ignored that.

"Nise do meed 'ou." Baggins glanced to Balin and gave a bit of a nod, but kept his focus on Dwalin. A good decision. Maybe the runt had more survival instincts than he let on.

"Yes, well, it's nice to meet you, 's well. I see you've already become familiar with my brother's charms. Lads? Perhaps you'd like to help Mister Baggins recall where he's placed his med-kit? 'M sure he'd appreciate the chance to clean 'mself up 'fore anyone else arrives."

Baggins muttered some protest or other - _could the man not just button his lip and do what had to be done?_ - but allowed a babbling Kili to lead him from the room. Fili followed, but only after gracing Dwalin with another dark, warning glance before he left sight.

The moment the three were out of hearing range, Dwalin allowed his shoulders to relax and gave his first good look at the bruise forming on the back of his hand. It smarted like a motherfucker.

Balin cleared his throat. "Going out 'f your way to be polite, 's always?"

Dwalin gave the older man a sullen look, but made sure to keep his voice low. "Thought to snag a scone t'hold m'over 'til supper. Baggins smacked m'hand 'nd I didn' think 'fore I reacted."

"Savage," Balin sighed. The smaller man approached Dwalin, pulling him down to knock their foreheads together in a familiar gesture of affection before giving his shoulder a solid smack.

"Aye," Dwalin nodded before he pulled back to look his brother over. "Y've gotten shorter 'nd wider since last 've seen ye."

"Quite the opposite, actually - I've dropped a stone." A light flashed in Balin's eyes and he raised his chin a touch. It was the closest that Balin ever came to physical displays of triumph.

Dwalin grinned and thumped his brother on the back. It was good to be back in Balin's company again.

Conversation flowed easily between the two brothers. Information was reported and misinformation was corrected. Gossip was shared and memories reminisced over and old jokes retold. Dwalin shared his misgivings about Baggins with his brother, but was scolded for it almost immediately.

"I know that trusting doesn't come easily t'you, brother, but we need Mister Baggins' skills. We need the knowledge he has and we cannot accomplish our goal without him."

Dwalin spared a scowl for Balin, but left the subject alone.

Baggins and the brats returned not too long after that. Baggins' nose was still swollen and pink, but he'd mopped the blood up and pulled a clean shirt on. The brats took to hovering around him, one of them always at the local's side, while the other sat with the Fundinson brothers under the guise of catching up.

Dwalin bristled at the idea that the pair was trying to protect Baggins -_ fucking poacher of a local_ - from him, but, again, he held his tongue.

The Lorison brothers were next to arrive.

Dori was his usual, stuffy self. He and Balin started prattling away like birds and it only got worse when Baggins joined the conversation. Dwalin squinted his eyes at Dori and turned his head to one side, before he snorted and smirked. Whatever Balin had lost from his middle, Dori had added. Not that Dwalin was overly surprised. Even with the odd jobs they'd all had to take over the years, Dori had found himself, more often than not, behind a desk, pushing papers and smiling for the locals.

Ori - _taller now, but as gangly as ever_ - was swept into the brats' company before he could do much more than smile a greeting at anyone. They were chattering away, too, but their voices were interrupted with laughter and punctuated with rude sounds. They presented the poor lad to Baggins like he was a prized possession, and Baggins managed to shoot a reassuring look to the lad while shooting an appraising and approving look to the brats. At least the brats allowed the lad to greet Balin as well.

Nori wasn't visible just yet, which meant –

"Right between the ribs. You're letting your age show, old man." The smug voice was accompanied by pain - _shallow, sharp, brief_ - to the left side of his back, just where his heart would be.

Dwalin feigned to the left, jerked to the right, and yanked Nori out of the shadows by the collar of his shirt. "Still scrawny, kid," Dwalin smirked as he released his friend. "What'd I tell ye 'bout not eatin' the shiny thin's ye find 'n the pockets 'f others?"

Nori only shoved his hands into his own pockets and found a bit of wall to lean on next to Dwalin. "And yet I can't seem to help putting them in my mouth." A wicked grin stretched across his face, even as his eyes scanned the crowded kitchen. "So, what's the word on Baggins, then?"

Dwalin sneered and cut his eyes to the man in question.

Nori was wearing a smirk of his own when Dwalin looked back. "You're that impressed, are you? Must be a keeper then."

"Light on 'is feet 'nd quick with the reflexes." Dwalin grunted. "'E's clever enough t' keep up with m' brother 'nd polite enough t' please y'rs. 'Nd he's got those two wrapped 'round 'is little finger." He nodded over to where Baggins was directing the brats to bring food to the table. "Looks like 'e's putting Ori t' work, 's well." The youngest of the Lorisons trailed behind the two brats, arms full of food and attention firmly fixed on the Durinson brothers.

"Lots of trinkets spread throughout the place," Nori murmured, smiling like they were talking about the weather. "A golf club next to the bed in the master bedroom for what I assume is defense." Dwalin gave a rude snort and Nori arched an eyebrow. "It's a good choice for an untrained civvie - don't need any training to swing it and it hurts like a bitch. The place is a maze of rooms and there's a cellar beneath, as well."

Dwalin arched a brow at him this time. There was no way - _even with as fast and stealthy as this bastard was_ - that he would've had enough time to look through the whole house and find the door to the cellar. Especially since Dwalin was pretty sure the door to the cellar, if there was one, was in the pantry.

Nori grinned. "You think I was going to set foot in an unknown place without knowing all the particulars? I had Ori look up the blueprints to the place before we came over." Nori's eyes flickered over the three children as they made their way back to Baggins for more instructions. "Who thumped Kili?"

Dwalin nodded over to Baggins, who was currently discussing tea with Dori.

Nori's eyes narrowed, but his smile took on a sharp edge. "He tries that with Ori and I'll wear his skin."

"Don't le' the brats hear ye say tha'," Dwalin muttered, his eyes still on Baggins. "They think 'e hung the moon."

There was another sound toward the front of the house and Baggins left to answer the door, Kili following behind him. Fili and Ori took up another platter of food each and dropped their voices as they spoke, eyes darting to Dwalin as they did.

Dwalin growled at the younglings and crossed his arms over his chest.

Nori looked from the pair of younglings to Dwalin and back before raising both eyebrows in silent question.

Dwalin raised his bruised hand. "'E startled me 'nd 'is nose started bleedin'. The brats took 'ffence for some reason. Won't leave 'im 'thout a minder, now."

Nori burst into startled laughter. Dori shot the pair of them a questioning look, but Nori shook his head and waved him off. Dori frowned almost immediately, but was distracted by conversation with Balin. Baggins returned in the next moment, Oin and Gloin trailing after him, and distracted the eldest Lorison further.

"Oin's getting a bit more silver-touched." Nori murmured.

Dwalin grunted in answer. Oin was getting on in years, but looked as if he hadn't lost all of his hearing just yet - or maybe he'd learned to lip read.

Gloin had cornered Baggins and was already going on about his wife's cooking. Dwalin felt a surge of vicious glee at the flickers of annoyance that crossed the local's face. Kili looked to step in to provide interference, but Fili caught both his attention and Nori's at once.

"Oi - Master Thief!" The conversation in the room lulled momentarily and while Dori gave his red-headed brother a pained look, Baggins took the opportunity to escape from Gloin's grasp. "Come over here a moment, I have something I want to show you."

Nori offered Dori a cheeky grin and answered Dwalin's annoyed huff with an indulgent smirk. "Don't worry, old man - we'll catch up more later," he murmured before he followed the brats - _and Ori_ - off to another room.

Dori grimaced and made to follow the group, but Baggins was at his elbow again with a question of some sort and soon had Dori diverted once more.

Dwalin grunted to himself. Maybe the brats had the local better trained than he thought, then.

The left front side of Dwalin's jacket gave off two short bursts of vibration. He frowned and fished his vid-com out of the inner pocket. He had an instant message.

**_TD_**_: D_

Dwalin felt his face stretching into a grin as he typed his response.

**_DF_**: _Yes?_

Dwalin went back to observing the crowd. The brats were huddled at the far side of the dining room now, almost hidden from sight from where Dwalin was standing, conversing quietly with Nori and Ori - _Dori wasn't going to be pleased with that_ - while Oin had seemed to take it upon himself to examine Baggins' recent injuries. Gloin was describing something to Balin - _either an escape or an explosion, by the way he was moving his hands_ - and Dori seemed to be making himself at home with the local's tea set. Dwalin glanced at his watch, making sure he had counted out the seconds to 3 minutes correctly, before typing another response.

**_DF_**_: You need something?_

Dwalin looked up, hearing another sound at the door - _only barely over the din the group was making_ - and soon Fili was showing Gandalf and the last three of the company into the dining room.

Dwalin smirked. Well, the last three, save one.

He had enough time to note that Bombur and Gloin had retreated to a corner - _the better to discuss their mutual love of things that explode_ - and that Bofur had already said something that had given Baggins cause to pale, before he typed out yet another message.

**_DF_**_: There's no shame in asking for help._

The response was almost immediate.

**_TD_**_: Fuck you._

Dwalin didn't bother hiding the bark of a laugh that made its way free. The conversations around him lulled and Balin sent him a pointed look. Dwalin gave him a shit-eating grin and flashed him two quick hand signs. _Leader_. _Lost_.

Bifur, still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, burst into a coughing fit rather suddenly, while Balin sighed and smiled while he signed back. _All clear?_

Dwalin waved off his concerns. _Affirmative_.

**_DF_**_: Your coordinates?_

**_TD_**_: Bywater Path and Frogmorton Way_

**_DF_**_: OMW_

Dwalin nodded to himself. He had an idea of where that was. He tried to catch Balin's eye again, but it was a lost cause. He looked to Bifur instead. _Moving out. ETA 15 minutes._

Bifur stood up straighter, rolled his shoulders back and nodded.

Dwalin answered with a nod of his own and made his way to the front door, passing a dimly lit room that held two familiar figures on his way.

He paused, nodded to Ori and signed the familiar symbols again. _Moving out. ETA 15 minutes._

Nori tensed, face going blank. _Repeat. Clarify._

_Leader. Lost._ Dwalin signed again, smirk firmly in place, and watched the tension leave the red-head's posture. _ETA 15 minutes_, he repeated.

Nori nodded and answered with a smirk of his own. _Watch your 6_.

Dwalin nodded, ignored the shine of curiosity coming from Ori and slipped out the front door.

It took him seven minutes to reach Thorin's location. Thorin stood, leaning against the trunk of a tree, not three feet from the street sign with his bike parked at the curb. There was a local standing in the yard across the street from Thorin, the rake in his hand glinting in the last of the evening light. He was an older, obese man and looked to be highly displeased with Thorin's presence. Thorin looked to be actively ignoring everything around him.

Dwalin gave a muted whistle and signed to his best friend. _Shadows?_

Thorin hid his look of relief, but not fast enough to keep Dwalin from seeing it. _Negative._

"Took your fucking time." Thorin's tone was snide, but he made his way to his bike faster than he had to.

Dwalin glanced up and down the street, eyes sharp for vehicles and unwanted company. "Been waitin' long, then?"

"Fuck you."

Dwalin thumped Thorin on the back as he passed. "Keep tellin' ye, ye're not m' type. I 'ppreciate th' offer, though."

Thorin seemed too focused on - _ignoring him_ - keeping his bike moving to provide a proper response, so Dwalin let it drop. "Reinforcements?"

Thorin shot him a venomous look and said nothing.

Dwalin grimaced. That didn't bode well. "Sister?"

The silence stretched on for a bit, but there were no poisonous looks, so Dwalin counted that as a win. After half a block, Thorin spoke. "The usual. If they come home with so much as a bruise, she'll slit my throat."

Dwalin nodded. That sounded like Dis's style. "Everyone else's there already." He hesitated, but only for a moment. "I'd rather send all three 'f the runts home. We could convince 'em to go willingly… with the local's help."

Thorin sent him a questioning look, but kept his silence.

"Ye know how I feel 'bout bringing the brats 'nd the lad along." Thorin nodded and made an impatient gesture. "The local has 'em wrapped 'round his little finger. Had 'em setting the table earlier 'nd they looked happy t' be doin' it."

Thorin snorted and smirked. "She said he's got a tight lead on the pair of them."

Dwalin frowned. "'E's been talkin' t' Dis?"

"Not for a while," Thorin shrugged. "Not since they were here last, but she was impressed with him at the time. Couldn't get her to shut up about how he was such a good influence on them."

Dwalin nodded and continued to frown. He didn't like that, not at all. What did a local have to offer the likes of the Durinsons? What did a local know of what it was like to wander about all of Middle Earth, homeless and half-starved?

A thought came to him and his mouth found its way to a smile again. "She's okay with 'im beatin' 'em, then?"

Thorin stumbled, head whipping up. "_What?_"

"'E seems quick t' move first 'nd question later." Dwalin held up his bruised hand. "Fili's got one tha' matches 'cross 'is knuckles already, but Kili's wearing 'is at 'is temple." He cast a side-long look at Thorin and shrugged. "Jus' didn' figure yer sister for bein' one t' tolerate tha'sort 'f shite."

Thorin's face was dark with rage. He kept his eyes forward - _likely aiming for the mess of vehicles parked haphazardly around Baggins' yard, now that they were on the right street_ - but he was clenching and unclenching his jaw the way he did before he threw his hardest punches.

Dwalin let his grin sharpen and kept his peace. Surely they didn't need Baggins along on this mission. It wasn't as if they'd be short a blade or a gun-hand if he was left behind. The company could reclaim Erebor, then send back for the local. Safer for everyone that way - especially Baggins.

Dwalin stood on the yard while Thorin secured his bike on the sliver of drive way left to him. There was tension in his friend's posture, but his eyes were cold and calm. That was Thorin, though, a dragon's rage hidden under a sheen of ice.

The lot of them must've been having a good time - Dwalin could hear them singing as the pair of them made their way up the drive. He fought to hide his smirk as Thorin pounded on the door.

A minute passed and no answer came. Thorin shot Dwalin an annoyed look and knocked again. The singing from inside was still going strong - _something about Baggins and dishes_ - so Dwalin shook his head and reached for the door knob. It was locked.

Dwalin had let two members of the company know where he was going, and when he'd return, and he got locked the fuck out?! Dwalin snarled at the door, but the hand on his shoulder brought him back to the moment.

Thorin was already on his vid-com, but he didn't look any happier than Dwalin did.

Balin answered on the second ring. "I thought m' brother would've reached you by now."

"Does our host know that his front door is locked?" The strain of keeping his voice even and calm was audible only to those who knew Thorin.

Fortunately, Balin was one of those people. "I'll be there in a moment."

Thorin turned off his vid-com, tucked it away, and ran the heel of his right hand back and forth across his forehead.

The noise inside ended abruptly and Thorin shared a look with Dwalin, one that Dwalin had seen on his friend's face many times before. It was a look that meant, before they were done here, Thorin would be introducing Baggins to his fist. Dwalin just hoped he wouldn't have cause to miss it.


	6. Good Evening

We're seeing more accents here (mostly in Balin), but it's only ever present in the dialogue. If the accents (which I'm still new at writing) are too difficult to read, please let me know and I'll go back through and take them out. As always - feel free to share your thoughts, questions and reactions!

(And we'll be leaving Bilbo's house soon, just not for another 2 chapters or so... I cry pardon)

Theme song - Exile by Hurts

* * *

_Must not punch Bilbo Baggins._

This was the mantra that Thorin repeated to himself while he waited for the door before him to open.

In order to bring down Smaug - _especially with as few people as they had_ - they would need to utilize Mahal.

Smaug had spent the past sixteen years scouring Middle Earth for every scientist who might possibly have any information related to Mahal.

Bilbo Baggins was the only individual that Greyhame knew of to escape joining Smaug's collection.

No one knew the fate of the scientists that Smaug had taken possession of.

Bilbo Baggins might very well be the last person in all of Middle Earth who had an understanding of how Mahal worked.

Doing harm to Bilbo Baggins, especially to his head, might harm the knowledge that was hidden there.

Therefore, Thorin Durinson _must not punch Bilbo Baggins._

As much as Thorin counted Dwalin as a brother, there was also the fact that the man was notorious for running with the first conclusion he came to. He had a well-known distaste for locals, as well. It would have been easy for Baggins to make Dwalin's shit list, even without any indications that he was mistreating Thorin's nephews. With evidence of any sort... Thorin would be surprised if Dwalin hadn't found an opportunity to corner Baggins for a "conversation" yet.

A sound came from the far side of the door - _the turning of a lock_ - and it opened to reveal Greyhame. The welcoming smile the old man wore was tinted, briefly, with confusion, before it turned into a concerned frown.

"Is all well, gentlemen?"

"Well enough," Thorin muttered. "It seems today's been a rather productive day."

"Oh?"

"Certainly." Thorin kept his face blank and his voice mild. "Or, rather, I assumed as much, since the party you and our host have been throwing can be heard from the street."

A muffled squawk came from somewhere behind Greyhame and the hopeful smile that the old man was wearing faltered.

"Come now, Thorin," he frowned as he opened the door further. "Surely we weren't so loud. And if we were, then there's no harm in it. I'm certain that Bilbo's neighbors wouldn't begrudge us a bit of merry-making."

"Is that so?" Thorin focused on keeping his breathing even and stepped inside. It helped to distract him from the impulse to shove the old man out of the way so that he could see where his nephews had got to. "Then we have nothing to fear from the woman living across the street calling the law with a noise complaint?"

There was the sound of a muttered oath, and someone was pulling Greyhame out of the way.

The man was shorter than Thorin had prepared himself for, but otherwise looked just as he did in the captures his nephews had shown him years before. He was barefoot and his hair was in disarray, but, save for some redness and swelling around his nose and eyes, he looked presentable enough. It almost looked as if the local had been punched recently.

Baggins gave Thorin a polite nod, but his eyes became wary when his gaze moved past Thorin.

Thorin glanced over his shoulder in time to see Dwalin cast a glare at the local, right before he flashed a smirk Thorin's way. Of course. Dwalin had already had that "conversation" with Baggins, then. That was one thing out of the way, at least.

Thorin returned his attention to Baggins, who seemed to have recovered and was waving the both of them inside. "Please, come in."

The first thing Thorin noticed was the pile of boots and shoes that he nearly tripped over. He sent a questioning look to Dwalin, but got a snort and an eye roll in return.

Baggins closed the front door after Dwalin stepped inside - _was that a rude gesture that the local made out the front door before closing it?_ - and moved past the pair of them to head further into the house, motioning to a small mountain of footwear as he passed it. "Boots off! Boots off! I'll not have you lot scuffing up my floors and treading dirt into my carpets, thank you kindly."

Richly colored hardwood covered the floors and the walls were tastefully, if minimally, decorated. Doors opened on either side of the hallway, but Thorin's view of the length of the hall was somewhat blocked by the crowd that had formed.

His gaze fell on his nephews first, standing closer than the rest. Fili stood tall, hands clasped behind his back and a pleased smile on his face. Kili stood next to him, vibrating with energy, as always, and an over-excited grin - _his trademark_ - firmly in place. Thorin took a moment to truly take in the sight of the pair of them. It was difficult, sometimes, not to see the children they had been - _to remember that they were men, now_ - but the evidence that they were grown was standing before him. He nodded to each of them - _it eased his heart to see their smiles widen as he did_ - before he turned to the rest of his friends.

He picked out Balin immediately – _good to see he was keeping the weight off_ - and then Dori - _odd not to see Ori at his side_ - who was standing near him. Bifur and his cousins were easy enough to pick out, and Gloin was hovering near Bombur, as always. That left Nori, Ori, and Oin unaccounted for, but with as many rooms as this place had, they were sure to be nearby.

Thorin's eyes flickered to back Dori - _something was off_ - and he tilted his head to one side. Dori looked composed, as always, but was he... flushed? A small smile curled the corners of Thorin's mouth. He was. The ever responsible Dori Lorison was looking a touch flushed. As was Balin. Come to think of it, the rest of the company was looking pink-cheeked and hale as well - even his nephews.

Thorin blinked. Were they drunk? He cut a suspicious look to Balin, but was only given a smirk for his troubles. They were! The whole lot had been drinking without him! He snorted. The ungrateful savages.

Thorin turned to follow his host to wherever the food was, but the man only stood in the nearest archway, his bearing highly unimpressed.

The smaller man looked from Thorin to Dwalin and back before folding his arms across his chest and snorting. "As I said, I won't have you tracking all of Middle Earth across my floors. Off with your boots or you can eat here in the entryway."

Thorin narrowed his eyes. He'd been awake for several hours before the sun came up and had traveled more miles this day than he wanted to put a number to, and that wasn't even factoring in his dealings with Dain or the harassment he'd received from the guard he'd had to deal with at this district's borders. He was tired and hungry and angry, on many different levels, and he was absolutely certain that punching this arrogant little shit could only make his day better.

_That's not how a member of the royal line acts, though, is it?_

The thought wore his father's voice - _patient and heavy with the gravity_ - and he spent a moment focusing on the familiar ache of missing his father, rather than on the infuriating idea that was Bilbo Baggins. He closed his eyes, resisted the urge to clench his fist, and ran the back of his knuckles across his forehead in the same way he remembered his father doing.

The crowd, in the meantime, had become unnaturally quiet.

"Bilbo, my dear," Greyhame's voice broke through the sudden tension. "Thorin has traveled rather far to get here, this evening, and I'm sure that he's had a trying day. Perhaps we could overlook the state of his footwear for this evening? Just this once?"

Baggins was a man of logic and reason. Every story that Thorin's nephews had told had been full of examples of how level-headed -

"No, old man, _not_ this once. This is _my_ home and _I _am the one who keeps it. I don't care who it is you've invited - if he wants to step foot past this entry way, he'll -"

A crash came from elsewhere in the house - _something glass breaking before something metal hit the floor_ - and Thorin blessed the Valar for their timing. He opened his eyes in time to see Baggins glower at Fili and Kili - _who returned his malice with innocent confusion_ - before he spun about and marched through the archway he'd been leaning against, muttering oaths as he went.

Thorin's nephews shared an urgent look, before glancing at Thorin - _or Dwalin_ - and nodding at one another. Kili followed after Baggins and most of the rest of the company trickled away as well. Fili, though, remained where he was.

Thorin waited for his eldest nephew to smile at him again before he arched an eyebrow. Fili's flush deepened and he glanced at Dwalin before meeting Thorin's gaze.

"He's not used to having so much company all at once." The blonde stood tall, wearing a lazy, if affectionate smile, while his eyes and his tone betrayed his concern. Standing like he was, Fili could've been his father, trying - _yet again_ - to intercept Thorin before he spoke too harshly with one of the new recruits. In those moments, while the boy spoke, Thorin felt Hili's loss more sharply than he had in years. "He didn't even know how many of us to expect before Kili and I arrived, and the company... Well, they haven't exactly been gentle with him."

Thorin frowned at his nephew, but Fili held his gaze and refused to look away. The space of several moments passed before Thorin lifted his gaze up to the ceiling and released his breath in a huff. "Greyhame can be trying at the best of times."

Fili's smile stretched into a grin. "Thank you, Uncle. I knew you'd understand." He gave a respectful nod before he followed the path Baggins and Kili had taken.

A sharp elbow in his side brought Thorin's attention back to Dwalin, who was wearing a scowl. "Ye spoil 'em."

Thorin gave a snort and knelt to better reach the laces on his boots. "Says the man who lets Kili crawl over him as if the brat were still toddling."

Dwalin answered with a shove that nearly knocked Thorin over.

Thorin righted himself before sending a vulgar hand sign to his friend, but the man was focused on removing his own boots. Thorin stood, instead - _he had traveled too far today, he'd be sore in the morning_ - and waited for Dwalin to finish.

Dwalin led the way, through two cluttered rooms, to two more rooms. A large table was in the first room, cleared off save for a handful of used napkins and a smattering of grease and crumbs. Gloin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur had taken over the far end of the table, but the lot of them - u_sually the loudest of the company _- were quietly listening to Balin's words. Gandalf was seated at the opposite end, closer to the kitchen, quietly enjoying a slice of pie. Ori - _twitching and fidgeting_ - hovered in the doorway that led to the kitchen, where several voices spoke over each other.

Thorin moved to better see what was happening.

Baggins crouched on one side of the room, holding a brush and dustpan, and alternated between scowling at the broken shards of glass, half glaring in Nori and Dori's direction, and fussing at Kili for picking up the slivers with his bare hands. Kili knelt beside the local, nodding appropriately as he was scolded, but not pausing in his work. Nori was farthest from the pair, leaning against a countertop on the other side of the room and cleaning his nails with one of his more impressive blades. He looked utterly bored and not the least bit guilty, flashing a grin and a wink at Thorin and Dwalin as they stepped into the doorway. Dori stood in front of Nori, making apologies and assurances, and shot the occasional annoyed glance over his shoulder to his brother. Fili stood between the Lorison brothers and the kneeling pair. His voice, when he spoke, was firm, but gentle - his words a polite accusation to counter Dori's diplomatic soothing.

Thorin cleared his throat and all speech stopped. "Something wrong?"

Baggins opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again with a pleading look and a soft touch to the wrist from Kili. Curious. Nori had shifted when Baggins looked like he was going to speak, but relaxed when the local kept his peace.

Dori and Fili shared a look, but it was Fili who spoke.

"One of Mister Bilbo's glass jars broke. We were discussing the circumstances."

Thorin nodded - _didn't confirm or deny an incident, wording and tone neutral, stance confident_ - and glanced past the group to see Oin standing in the opposite doorway, looking mildly amused.

"The meeting will begin soon."

Fili nodded, as did Dori, but as Dori left the room, with Nori at his heels, Fili turned to face Thorin and Dwalin, just as carefully relaxed as he had been in his discussions with Dori. Kili still knelt next to Baggins, the two of them making quick work of the remaining mess of broken glass, and Oin passed through the room quickly enough, but the expression on Fili's face - _mild disapproval hiding beneath a facade of genteelness, the same expression he'd received countless times from Dis_ - was what kept Thorin's attention. It took a few moments - _Kili and Baggins' work was nearly finished_ - before Thorin realized that it was Dwalin who the look was intended for, something Dwalin was well aware of, if his restless fidgeting was anything to go by.

Thorin nudged his old friend and gave him a questioning glance, fully aware that Fili's attention was still focused on the pair of them.

Dwalin smirked - _it faltered when Fili's eyes narrowed, though_ - and tapped his nose with his index finger.

Thorin nodded. He paused as the information sunk in, then grimaced. Dwalin had found an opportunity to punch Baggins and had taken it. The lads knew about this and disapproved. The Valar help him - this did not bode well for the journey to come.

Fili sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, looking up to the ceiling as he did. It caught Kili's attention immediately - _a new signal, perhaps_ - who frowned and gave a wary glance at the two men they called uncle, but it attracted Baggins' attention, as well.

Baggins' expression melted into an affectionate smile. "Go on and get to the table. I'll plate some supper for this pair and be along in a moment."

"It's alright." Kili's frown bloomed into a grin as he spoke to Baggins. Thorin might've glared at how eager his nephews were to please the local, but Fili - _a bit protective of Baggins, he and his brother_ – was still watching. A quick glance from the corner of his eye told him that Dwalin was doing enough glaring for the both of them, anyway. "This discussion is a bit of an important matter and mostly for you. You go ahead and we'll see to the food."

Baggins glanced at Thorin, then at Dwalin, and then through the door where everyone else was now seated. After a moment, he shook his head. "No. I'll handle the food, I think. The pair of you will be lucky if I let you anywhere near my crockery again, let alone in sight of a scone." The sullen tone the man used was ruined by the way the corners of his lips turned upward.

The lads seemed to pick up on this, as well.

"Master Boggins, surely you wouldn't be as cruel as that - we were only trying to help." Kili spoke as if the local's words had wounded him, clutching at the man's forearm with feigned distress, but Fili began humming a tune that earned some laughter from those of the company that could hear it from the other room.

Dwalin gave a start as Fili began humming and looked over the lad with suspicious eyes. He didn't seem to find what he was seeking, though, because he relaxed again and the only answer Thorin could pry from him was a slight shake of the head and a subtle hand sign for later.

"I certainly would!" Baggins sounded outraged, but didn't pull himself free of Kili's grasp. "Washing the dishes and seeing that they're put away is one thing, but flinging my china about the house and mocking me through song is another matter altogether." His scowl was shared between the two brothers in equal measure. "Now get yourselves from my kitchen and play at being proper hosts for once while I put some food together for your elders." He took a step, cast a sidelong look at Thorin and Dwalin, and sniffed. "And take those two with you, I'm sure they're eager enough to be seated."

Thorin exchanged a dark look with Dwalin, before he allowed his nephews to usher him back to the dining room. He made sure to catch their attention as he sat, though, and made doubly sure that they understood just how displeased he was with the frustrating man that lingered in the other room.

Fili's shoulders tensed at the look, nodding to acknowledge that he understood, while Kili stilled completely. The stillness only lasted the span of a breath before they were both fidgeting in the way that only they understood. When they'd finished their silent conversation, Fili met Thorin's gaze and bowed his head, showing proper respect to his leader and uncle, but Kili pressed his lips firmly together and raised his chin, a defiant light in his eyes.

Thorin allowed himself a moment to marvel at how united they were and how well they played off of each other while communicating. When Fili took the throne - _after Erebor was reclaimed and Thorin stepped down from the crown_ - Kili would be at his side, and the force they would present then would be unstoppable.

The thought occurred to Thorin - _not for the first time_ - that he was making a mistake, that he was taking his nephews - _sons in all but blood_ - to their deaths, and he felt an unearthly chill crawl up his spine. It wasn't a possibility that he could deny - _a leader had to consider every possible outcome _- but neither was it one that he could stand to linger over. He wasn't sure if he could survive such a loss - _it would kill Dis _- but he didn't think he could handle watching one brother struggle to live without the other, either. Their actions and thoughts seemed so aligned with each other that there were times that Thorin didn't think it physically possible for them to function apart, let alone with one d-

Balin cleared his throat and gave Thorin a pointed look.

Thorin blinked and nodded, taking his seat at the head of the table. Dwalin sat to his left, followed by Balin, Dori, Oin, Bifur, and Bofur. To Thorin's right, Fili took the first seat, but Kili skipped a chair before seating himself. Thorin frowned at Fili again - _Kili was already speaking in hushed tones with Ori_ - but Fili only offered a benign smile in return. Ori followed after Kili, flanked by Nori, then followed by Bombur and Gloin. Gandalf now sat at the far end of the table, opposite Thorin.

Baggins entered the room, laid a warm plate of food before Thorin and Dwalin, set two baskets of scones on the table - _one at each end_ - and then took the seat between Fili and Kili. The scones were descended upon almost as soon as Baggins' hands let go of them, which surprised Thorin and brought an amused smirk to their host's face. Bofur started up about Kili taking more than his share, but Kili only distributed the pastries out - _one each_ - to Ori, Fili, Thorin and Dwalin, before sending a rude gesture toward his accuser.

Thorin caught Balin's gaze and nodded, allowing his trusted friend and advisor to begin the discussion while he and Dwalin ate.

Balin looked up and down the table before bringing his gaze back to Baggins. "First, let me begin by reviewin' a bit 'f history. Eighteen years ago, Erebor was a growin', prosperous district. Under the guidance 'f King Thror, an' then King Thrain -"

"Excuse me," Baggins spoke up, a slight frown on his face. "I'm sorry for interrupting, but did you say 'King Thror'? I knew Thror was a scientist, and I'll admit that I don't follow politics much, but I wasn't aware he was a Durinson."

Balin hummed and sent a sidelong glance to Thorin.

Thorin sighed, set down his fork - _the food was good, worth the praise the lads gave it_ - and met Baggins' gaze. "My grandfather -"

Baggins made a strangled sound and sent an accusatory look the table to Gandalf - _did the old man not tell him who he was hosting? manipulative bastard_ - but Gandalf countered with a benign smile. Baggins' look turned scathing, but the local replaced it with something more apologetic when his attention returned to Thorin.

"Sorry."

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but continued. "My grandfather received the crown at the age of 42, after his father passed away. He had been groomed for the responsibilities of being king, but Thror's true passion had always been science and its advancement. He ruled for twenty years, encouraging the expansion of our libraries and pioneering the latest scientific innovations. Under his reign, Erebor entered a golden age of enlightenment." - _he could almost see the royal libraries, the halls so tall and wide that he'd been sure a dragon could've nested there comfortably_ - "I was eighteen when Mahal was discovered and my grandfather passed the crown on to my father that same year." - _Father and Grandfather shared a birthday and Mother laughed when she said that they both got their birthday wish_ - "Mahal..." - _was the very source of his family's ruin_ - "Mahal was... is..." - _a bane, a curse, a blight_ - Thorin struggled to keep a snarl from his voice as he tried to describe Mahal, but was saved by Balin's intervention.

"Under the steel an' the stone, deep in the heart 'f the mountain, was found an energy source. It was potent an' it burned clean an' there seemed t' be no limits t' it. The ones who found it had the honor of namin' it an' they called it after one 'f the gods 'f old." Balin's voice had taken on the same lilt to it that it carried back when the lads were young enough to beg stories from their elders. "Mahal was hailed as the solution t' the energy crisis an' was thought t' be able t' provide power for every district in Middle Earth. With Thrain on the throne, Thror leadin' our research, an' a scientific miracle beneath our feet, Erebor saw such leaps in scientific advancement as had never been seen before. We worked out how t' harness this new energy an' used it t' power our vehicles, our homes, an' our communications. We also used it t' power a defensive system designed t' protect our borders. Created by Thror an' the best strategic minds Erebor had t' offer, it was the most complex, innovative defense Middle Earth had ever seen." Balin paused. His eyes drifted to the window that sat behind Baggins, a distant look in them, and his voice was softer when he continued. "We had seven years t' learn an' explore Mahal. Then _he_ came."

A grumbling started up among the older members of the company, but died down as Balin began to speak again.

"Smaug Urulóki, with the help 'f the traitor Girion Bowman of Dale, was able t' infiltrate our defenses with a private army he called the Offensive Regimented Combat Squad."

"Fucking O.R.C.S.," Gloin spat and snarls erupted up and down the table in answer.

Thorin took a moment to clear his throat, when it looked as if the company wouldn't be quieting itself, and Balin nodded to him before continuing.

"In a single night, Smaug an' his O.R.C.S. completely overwhelmed us. We know not how, but he bought the loyalty 'f those who had access t' our gates an' defenses. By the time his presence was known, our guard was overrun an' Erebor was in the process 'f fallin' t' an enemy we hadn't thought t' prepare for. Thror, in his wisdom, realized that if no action was taken, our defenses could be turned against us an' so activated a failsafe that cut off all access to Mahal an' the machines connected t' it. In doin' this, he ensured that though Erebor may 've fallen, Smaug would never be able t' claim his prize." Balin paused again.

The atmosphere at the table was so heavy and tense that Thorin felt his appetite slip away from him. A sidelong look Dwalin's way showed that he was frowning at his food, but that the giant of a man hadn't slowed in his eating. Thorin kept eating as well. There was no sense in wasting good food.

"We lost Thror in the chaos 'f that night, along with family an' friends an' a full third 'f Erebor's population. We lost Thrain and Frerin a week after that."

Thorin set his fork down. - _he was clawing through the rubble, he couldn't tell if he what he was hearing was the sound of gunfire or just the ringing in his ears, he needed to find Dis and get her and the younglings to safety, but his grandfather had been close to the building when it exploded, Thror had to be here somewhere_ - There was food on his plate, still. He should finish it. - _he was sitting in a bar with Dwalin and Balin on either side and a dozen others around him, they were supposed to be discussing how to split up, what folk should go with who, but his father's face was on the screen, as was his brother's, and they wore matching bruises and Thorin couldn't hear what was being said through the ringing in his ears, but he heard the sound of a blade biting through flesh and bone, and he heard it just as clearly the second time_ - Thorin picked his fork up again and used it to stab a bit of meat. - _Smaug's face was on the screen, wearing a beatific smile, and Thorin didn't know which was going to make him vomit first, that son of a bitch calling himself a Durinson bastard or the sight of the monster Azog licking the blood of Thorin's closest family off his blade_ - Thorin set the fork down once more, harder than he probably should have.

Kili stood and reached silently for Thorin's plate. Thorin stared up at him for a long moment - _Hili, mild, soft spoken Hili, would've slit his throat for even considering taking his lads on a suicide mission like this, maybe Dis should have_ - before he nodded once and his plate was taken away.

Balin started up again as Kili left the room. "By the Valar's grace, a third 'f our folk managed t' escape the chaos an' the violence 'f that night. The fate 'f the remainin' third 'f our people is somethin' we can only speculate on." He paused to swallow, and if his voice was a touch more hoarse when he continued, no one made mention of it. "Those 'f us who fled 've faced hardships beyond the telling. There was no help or aide offered from any 'f those whom we had once called allies an' our folk were forced t' wander from district t' district, findin' what work they could. When there was work t' be had, it was frequently dangerous an' menial, an' when there was none t' be found, we were forced t' rely on the charity 'f locals or retreat t' the wastes for any shelter we could find." Baggins looked to Fili, pity on his face, but Fili - _good lad_ - didn't meet his gaze. Kili chose that time to retake his seat and answered Baggins' look of concern with a confused smile. "Eventually, most 'f our people found sanctuary with our kinsmen in District Ered Luin. It's put some strain on their economy, but we're grateful that we 've not yet been turned away."

"It's been sixteen years since Smaug took over District Erebor, an' in all this time he has yet t' work out how t' access Mahal." Balin wore a bit of a smirk now. It was a faint thing, but it was present and Thorin was glad to see it. "There's no way 'f knowin' what use he'd 've put Mahal to, had he been granted full access, but there's information that leads us t' believe that Smaug might 've used Mahal t' create weapons -"

Greyhame cleared his throat and when he spoke in the silence that followed Balin's pause, his voice carried the weight of approaching thunder. "For the sake of all present, Mister Fundinson, I would not have you soften your words - not on this subject."

Balin frowned, but nodded.

Baggins sat up a bit taller at this, eyes moving from Fili to Kili, and then to Ori. He was looking pale, his breath coming out with a forced evenness, and he shot a pleading glance to Thorin - though, what it was for Thorin couldn't have said.

Thorin turned his eyes to Greyhame, instead of meeting the local's gaze, and waited for the old man to speak.

"It is possible, using Mahal, to create a weapon so devastating that it would make pale every war and weapon that came before it."

"M - Mister Greyhame, surely you don't - you don't mean that." Ori's voice broke through the silence. His nerves had to have been on edge for him to stutter so badly. "The G-Great War reshaped the very surface of M-Middle Earth!"

"The Great War," Greyhame turned his attentions to his mug. "The war that cost us landmarks, as well as lives. The war that, over one hundred years ago, not only changed our borders and our politics, but forced us to redraw our maps. It was a war the likes of which Middle Earth had never known before and I pray that we will never know again." Greyhame nodded. "It would be but a candle, though, compared to the destructive potential of a war powered by Mahal."

The silence stretched on for a moment, but Balin hummed before it became too oppressive.

"No matter his intentions, Smaug's been unable t' access Mahal since he began his occupation 'f Erebor." Balin's voice rang out clear once again. "He has, undoubtedly, been spendin' a great deal 'f effort trying t' bypass the systems an' protocols currently in place, but while that goes on he's also dedicated himself t' tryin' t' duplicate the technology developed for accessing Mahal. T' accomplish this, he needed men 'f learnin' - he needed scientists, preferably those who already possessed knowledge 'f Mahal an' its workin's. Smaug has spent the last sixteen years acquirin' any an' every scientist who's ever worked with Mahal, even in passin'. He offered rewards, at first, t' bribe those who knew the location 'f his prey int' speakin', but, as time passed, he turned t' threats an' violence, instead."

If Baggins was pale before, he was ashen now. His face was schooled to polite interest and he sat in his chair as if he were listening to Balin go on about his kin, rather than about a monster. If his pallor hadn't betrayed him, Thorin might've thought Baggins to be unconcerned about the whole mess of it.

"It's widely believed that Smaug has gotten ahold 'f every person who's ever worked on Mahal. Unfortunately for him, they've been unable t' duplicate in sixteen years the progress that Thror made in seven. This lack 'f success has neither slowed nor stopped Smaug in his search for other scientists. It seems he's convinced that if he searches long an' hard enough, he'll find the one person able t' make all his efforts worthwhile." Balin's voice had softened once again and the look he cast on Baggins now was almost gentle. "In fact, his efforts 've been so thorough an' so widespread that if there were a single person, even a forgotten intern, who managed t' slip his notice - well, that person could be considered terribly fortunate."

Baggins nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth.

Kili and Fili shared a frown, and leaned into either side of the local for a moment before allowing him his space again. Only Fili cast a glance at Thorin afterward, perhaps unsure of how the gesture of comfort would be received, but Thorin gave him a slight nod and Fili seemed to relax.

Baggins seemed to appreciate the gesture. He offered a smile - _forced_ - to both of them before sending a questioning look down the table to Greyhame. Greyhame nodded and Baggins mimicked.

"So," Baggins licked his lips before speaking again. "The lot of you, you intend to...?"

"We intend to infiltrate Erebor and take back our home."

Baggins was either not expecting those particular words or he wasn't expecting Thorin to be the one to say them, judging by the way he startled. His facade of calm began to slip, his eyes wide as he looked from Thorin to Balin to Greyhame and back again.

"Infiltrate..." Baggins took a breath and scrubbed at his face. "You're planning a coup - a small military force sneaking in and a quick and clean change in power. Just like he did to you, yes?" Thorin repressed a frown at being compared to the filth Smaug, but nodded. "Right. Very well." Baggins nodded and seemed to fortify himself. "How many men are we talking about, then?"

All eyes at the table turned to Thorin at this point and he wished - _suddenly, desperately_ - for the luxury of having something breakable to fling at the wall. Instead, he kept his shoulders back and his posture stiff. He clenched a fist and made sure to speak loud enough that none in the room would mistake him.

"Thirteen."

Baggins nodded. "Hundred or thousand?"

"Thirteen. Just thirteen."

Oaths flew up and down the table and Balin lifted his eyes to the ceiling. If he'd had the luxury of privacy, Thorin would've told his friend that the Valar weren't listening to the begging and bribing of mortals - not today, at least.

It was a forced, desperate laugh that cut through the swearing that had filled the room.

"That's funny, your highness, terribly funny." There was something brittle in the local's voice as he spoke. "I didn't think you one for joking over matters like this, and I am no great strategist on even my best days, but even Smaug brought more men with him than are sitting in this room." He paused to lick his lips and dropped the forced smile. There was a desperate, almost pleading look in his eyes when he spoke next. "You cannot hope to retake your home with only thirteen lives to gamble."

Thorin struggled not to glare or snort at the smaller man. He had been expecting this reaction - this fear. Baggins was a man of science - _like Grandfather_ - a man of learning. The background checks he had run all revealed a man who's most violent tendency was to pay the local children to play on his neighbor's lawn. Thorin frowned and let his gaze flicker to Kili's forehead. It seemed he needed to find a better source of information for his background checks. Perhaps he needed to corner his nephews and discuss the meaning of _pertinent information_ with them, as well.

"There are times, my dear, when few can do what many cannot." Again, Greyhame's voice broke through the silence.

"There is a difference, _old man_, between few and not enough." Baggins retorted. "Yes, I imagine them capable enough to reach District Erebor undetected, and yes, with so few they'd have an easy time of slipping through its borders, but Smaug has a private army - one that vastly outnumbers them! And then, assuming they're able to assassinate Smaug and banish the O.R.C.S., they'll still be stuck in the same position Smaug was in! No one can access Mahal - not anymore."

"They will not, in fact, be _stuck_, as they will have something that Smaug does not possess." Greyhame offered a smug smile and reached into a pocket to produce a bulky, rough-hewn iron key. He held the key up so that all at the table to could see it and then tossed it to where Thorin sat.

Thorin caught the key easily, surprised at its lack of weight. The old man had come to him, had told him that now was the time to act if he wished to return home, and had promised to deliver to him the key to defeating Smaug. At the time, Thorin had thought that the old man meant Baggins, not an actual key. He was hard pressed to think of any lock in Erebor that would open for such a crudely made key. He turned the key over, examining it carefully, before he cast a questioning look back at the Greyhame.

"This key," the old man continued. "Was given to me by Thror seventeen years ago today. It is part of a series of measures he devised to keep Mahal out of hands that would abuse it. In the event that something terrible should happen, he would, in a sense, close the door to his project and it would lock itself against all access. The option to enter a password would be provided, three attempts allowed every thirty days, but every answer, even a correct one, would be declared a failure without the device you now hold in your hands."

"He disguised the key _as a key_!" Bofur blurted out, wearing a wide grin.

"Indeed he did, Mister Kafurson. Quite the clever idea, I should think."

Thorin surged to his feet, vaguely aware of the clatter the chair made as it fell to the floor, and nearly growled at the old man. He felt a vicious stab of pleasure to see the smile wiped off Greyhame's face and ignored how quiet and still his company had suddenly become.

Thror, his own grandfather, had entrusted this old man - _this outsider_ - with something of such importance and never said one word to him about it? And Greyhame! The bastard had kept this treasure, had kept this information from him - _kept it secret_ - for seventeen damned years?

"This... _key_." Thorin ignored the ringing in his ears and focused his full attention on the source of his fury. "You've had this key for near two decades and this is the first you speak of it?"

Balin began to speak, but Thorin brought his fist down upon the wooden table as hard as he could. He would not stand for any soothing - not at this moment. He kept his eyes locked on Greyhame's and waited for his answer.

"You were in mourning, Thorin Durinson, and the fate of your people hung upon your shoulders. There was no opportunity for action and I hesitated to provide you with what could only be, at that time, a distraction." Greyhame's voice was even, carefully neutral.

"_Lies!_" Thorin struck the table again. "I'd never let anything come before the safety of my people! If you'd shared this information with us in the beginning, we could've spent this time planning more accurately. We could've had sixteen years to work out how to get past Smaug and into the rooms my grandfather worked in! sixteen years to guess at the damned password! Now we have a handful of months, if that."

Without moving a muscle, something fundamental about Greyhame seemed to change. His eyes became hard and his frowned seemed suddenly severe. The very air around the old man seemed to vibrate with something bordering on menace.

"I have lived a very long time, Mister Durinson. I have seen governments rise and fall; I have seen births and deaths beyond number; and I have seen both the kindest and the cruelest acts humanity is capable of. There are many things that I have done in my time, and there are some that I am not proud of, but, of these things, not one of them includes lying. I may avoid questions and I may keep my council to myself, but I do not lie. So if I tell you, Mister Durinson, that the time for sharing this information with you was not appropriate until now, then you will have to take me at my word." The words rang heavy in the air, but a moment later the dangerous aura that had surrounded the old man evaporated and his tone was almost cheerful again. "Balin, my friend, if you would?"

Balin shifted and looked to Thorin, subtle concern in his eyes.

Thorin released a heavy breath and nodded. He motioned for Balin to continue while he picked up his chair and retook his seat.

"Mister Baggins, you're correct in that there are few 'f us an' many who serve Smaug, but we've planned appropriately. If we 're able t' re-access Mahal, if we had someone with us who knew its workings an' temperaments, then we could reactivate Erebor's defensive systems an' our chances for success would be all the higher for it!"

Baggins shook his head. His hands were trembling and he had a dazed look in his eyes. "I've - I've never been to Erebor before, though. I only know theory - lots and lots of theory." He dropped his gaze down to his hands, which were busy fretting a napkin.

Balin smiled, and shook his own head. "You have the knowledge 'f how it works, though. You've spoken with those who 've worked with it directly an' you're familiar with the equations an' formulas that were used in puttin' it together an' makin' it run – an' you're the only one that Smaug has not yet grasped. As much as we don't know the fate 'f those citizens that remain trapped behind Erebor's walls, the fate 'f the scientists is even less certain. They may be healthy an' well cared for or they may be psychologically broken, mere shadows 'f the people they used t' be. They may even be dead." He hesitated and lowered his gaze. "We need someone that we know we can count on, Mister Baggins. We need you."

Baggins was breathing faster again, and his gaze was darting about the whole room. He brought his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose - _the same action that Fili had taken earlier_ - and shook his head again. "No. No, no, no." He looked at Balin, eyes pleading and voice brittle once more. "You don't even know me. The lot of you don't even know me. How did you know to trust me? Did you listen to Gandalf? Did you believe what he said? How could you - Why would Smaug - Why would anyone hide from him for so long and then reveal themselves now? To total strangers? How could you believe that this was anything but a trap?" Baggins shook his head as he spoke, his words coming out fast and harsh.

Greyhame looked almost pained, but kept his silence, as did most of the rest of the group. No one, Thorin noticed, met the locals gaze save for Greyhame and himself.

"It was us." Fili's voice was too loud in the silence. His posture was rigid, but his head was lowered, eyes firmly fixed on the place where his plate once rested. "We found your papers, the ones in the study. We told Uncle Thorin."

"Wha -" Baggins's mouth gaped and he looked at Fili as if he was seeing him for the first time. He turned to Kili and shook his head.

"We didn't mean to, Master Boggins," Kili placed a hesitant hand on the local's shoulder. "It was an accident. We were looking for that book - the one on computer programing - and it wasn't on the shelf and we thought maybe it was under those papers on your desk and so we moved them around a little and... and we didn't mean to, Master Boggins, but we had to tell Uncle Thorin - just to be safe, you understand? We... we had to."

Baggins stood abruptly, though, not so fast that he knocked over his chair. His face was dangerously pale and his knuckles were bone white with how tight he had his fists clenched. He lifted his head and fixed a wild look on Thorin.

"We're sorry, Mister Bilbo," Fili spoke again, his voice thick with emotion. "We never meant to break your trust."

Baggins shook his head and patted Fili's shoulder with his near hand, but didn't look away from Thorin. Thorin would've shifted if his self-control had been any less. He couldn't decide if the sharpness in Baggins' eyes was accusation or desperation.

"Sloppy, that," Bofur murmured. "Leavin' papers of that sort out for anyone t' read."

Baggins blinked and turned to Bofur, frowning. "I - I didn't..."

"They weren't just out in the open," Kili protested. "They were under a bunch of other papers and we wouldn't have even seen them if we hadn't been messing about at his desk! Don't you -"

Kili's protest was cut short when Baggins moved, rather suddenly and rapidly, toward the floor. Fili's fast reactions kept the man from injuring himself on the table, but it was a close call.

Fili, Kili, Ori and Oin immediately took to fussing over their host, while the rest of the table shifted uncomfortably. _Bofur seemed to be feeling particularly bad, but Nori looked more amused than anything_.

Thorin, quite deliberately, rested his elbows on the table in front of him and hid his face in his hands. This day was obviously going about as well for Baggins as it was for him. He briefly entertained the notion of having a fainting spell of his own, but his thoughts were interrupted by movement at his side.

Dwalin had stood and looked to be about to make his way back to the kitchen.

Thorin frowned, glanced at his nephews - _still frantic_ - then back to his friend. _Purpose_, he signed.

Dwalin didn't pause in his stride. _Sweet snack._

It was a struggle not to smile, but Thorin managed it. _Me, too._

Dwalin nodded and slipped unseen into the kitchen.

Thorin hid his face in his hands once again. The lads had been right about one thing. It might have been worth traveling to District Shire just for the taste of those damned scones.


End file.
